


Stormy Times

by Gilda



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Love, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Romance, Self-Reflection, Sexual Tension, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-05-25 16:51:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 108,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6203260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gilda/pseuds/Gilda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hurricane season - and both Camille and Richard find themselves being restless, feeling somewhat 'under the weather' and longing for a change. While Camille considers taking drastic steps but can't quite make up her mind, Richard is stuck between wanting a change and dreading it at the same time. - This story is set about a year after Series 2 and obviously AU - Series 3 ff. don't exist. Rated M for later chapters :-)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hurricane Season

**Author's Note:**

> Mistakes are all my own, I don't have a beta-reader for this. Since English is not my mother tongue, there might be inconsistencies here and there. I apologise in advance! 
> 
> Feedback is welcome, as always!

According to the calendar, it was hurricane season in the Caribbean. Richard Poole listened to the wind outside and realised that he didn’t need a calendar any more to pinpoint when it started and when it ended – he had been on Saint Marie for long enough now to know when it was time to run and hide. He had got used to it, like he had got used to so many other things… just because there was no way around it. That didn’t mean that he liked them – or even was happy with them. He had just understood that he couldn’t change them, and so he didn’t waste his precious energy any more on trying to fight them.

For example, he had got used to the rain pelting down on the tin roof of his shack twice a day for 10 minutes – it came down once in the morning and once in the evening. You could pretty much set your clock to the rainfalls.

He had also got used to the nicer things, like the clear skies that enabled him to spend his evenings gazing at the stars, the sound of the waves lapping at the beach that helped him to fall asleep at night, the general quietness and isolated location of the beach where he lived – if you didn’t count the frogs that began to croak before sunrise…

Other things had been harder to get used to. He still wasn’t overly happy with some of the things in the Caribbean – the constant heat alone was hard for him to bear, but the humidity on top of it… that made it all the more difficult for him. He had grown up in a colder climate – the UK wasn’t particularly well-known for its blazing sunshine and hot temperatures – so it had taken him a considerable amount of time to adjust. It hadn’t helped that he had insisted on wearing his usual woollen suits – he felt that he was representing the authority of the local police, and he wanted to dress accordingly. Also, he felt safe in this ‘uniform’ – suits simply had something stable, reliable, reassuring for him – and that was what he needed, more so because the Caribbean made him feel somewhat insecure, particularly over the first year of his stay. He had worn suits in the UK, so he’d wear them here as well. You had to have some standards to hold on to – especially when the world you had always known no longer was part of your everyday life. For the longest time he had refused to let go of this habit, and even now, he still wore his suits for work.

However, once he was back at his shack, he usually changed into something less formal – his Marks and Spencer pyjamas had been his most comfortable and favourite clothing during the first two years of his stay, they were loose and somewhat airy, and they reminded him of ‘home’… but well… they were a little too informal, particularly if someone came round to his place unexpectedly!

Now, in his third year, when he had finally accepted the truth and resigned himself to staying on Saint Marie for longer than just a ‘short stint’ (that had been his boss’s words when he had first been sent to the island! What a liar… he had wanted to get rid of him, Richard was well aware of that…), he had given in and got some more comfortable clothes - slacks and chinos that he could wear either with his dress shirts or looser short sleeved linen shirts and boat shoes. At this point, he was also considering purchasing lightweight suits for work, but he wasn’t entirely sure about that yet. Wouldn’t that look too sloppy? He’d have to make sure before buying…

Actually, he was quite pleased with his more casual trousers and shirts, although – initially - he had been sceptical. At least he was presentable this way. But that was as far as it went – he wouldn’t want to be caught dead or alive in the typical island outfit of shorts and shirts with ghastly patterns – or worse, muscle shirts! Whoever had invented those clearly had had a different body type in mind than the one he had – he neither was tall nor ‘muscular’ (although he didn’t think he was a complete softie, either… he was perhaps not be a great weightlifter, but he exercised a little to maintain a certain level of fitness), and he didn’t have a plethora of tattoos to show off, either – which seemed to be a prerequisite for that sort of fashionable attire…

In fact, he didn’t even have a single one, and he was very happy that way – why would he want anybody to maltreat him with a needle and ink to get a picture applied to his body that would look like a run-over cat in a couple of years, due to sagging skin and other effects of bodily decay… the very thought of a tattoo actually disgusted him. Plus, of course, he was pale, and nothing in the world would change that. He simply didn’t tan. He’d get sunburnt, but not tanned. In other words, muscle shirts looked ridiculous on him. So, there was no way he’d ever wear anything like that. He’d look ludicrous in that sort of garments, and he was thankful for being intelligent enough to be aware of that, not to mention that clothes of that kind lacked all propriety and finesse.

The absence of seasons was something that Richard really didn’t like. Others might think it was fun to have sunshine all year round – he didn’t agree with that at all. There were basically two distinguishable ‘seasons’ – regular and hurricane.

There wasn’t really any difference to speak of. The temperature was pretty much the same year round. During hurricane season, it cooled down a little bit, but it was minimal – like half a degree, maybe - and of course that didn’t really make things any easier – it still was damp and warm, and it felt like in a washhouse – only that it wasn’t so sunny on some days, and the occasional howling wind was adding to the trouble, the rain got heavier and less predictable, and power cuts were even more frequent. Naturally, it wasn’t like that on all days, but overall, the atmosphere was clearly different then, and Richard had realised that hurricane season did funny things to him – he was more moody and ‘under the weather’. He wouldn’t have admitted this to anybody else, but he was aware of it.

Of course, it didn’t help that he got soaked more often during hurricane season, and he had to change his clothes even more often. For someone like him who wanted to be dressed correctly, this was a real challenge. But well, he had more or less adjusted to that as well. There was a locker in the police station where he kept two fresh shirts, and more than once he had been grateful for this – it had made a huge difference just to know that in case he had sweated through his stuff or got soaked to the bones that there’d be something dry and crisp waiting for him that he could put on.

He had stocked up on dress shirts during visits on Guadeloupe so he’d have a bigger supply to choose from and stopped doing the washing and ironing on his own – it had been simply impossible to keep on top of things with the climate being the way it was. Back at home, he had never considered giving his shirts to a professional service – he was hard to please, and the only way to make sure that everything was just the way he wanted it was doing things himself.

Here in the Caribbean, he couldn’t possibly keep up his usual sartorial standards, though, if he relied on his own resources and abilities only – so after a while, he had (reluctantly) admitted defeat and found a reliable dry cleaning service. He had even been able to agree on a flat rate with them – he brought in a guaranteed number of shirts per month, and he got a special discount – so his shirts were laundered and ironed for relatively small money, and his life was easier since he only had to take care of easy laundry, like underwear, bed linen and towels. The suits naturally went to the dry cleaner’s, too.

He knew that his team thought he was obsessed with the heat and all its side effects, but he was beyond caring. However, he also knew that they were pleased that his complaints came less frequently these days. His Detective Sergeant had more than once snapped at him when he had ranted about the heat – her comment had been that everyone was hot, but it was just him who was complaining… he had realised that this was the truth, and as he was realistic enough to understand that the Caribbean climate wouldn’t change, he had understood that he had to make adjustments and compromises – if only minimal ones (he wasn’t good with change! At all!).

Richard sighed. It was hot. He had to keep the shutters of his shack closed while he was at work, and it could get rather stuffy inside – and the shack was not very airy to begin with. He usually opened every door and window when he came home, and oftentimes he left them open during the night. But during hurricane season, he couldn’t always do that as there was more rain and wind, and he didn’t want to wake up to a tropical storm raging in his house, so when the weather channel forecast a rainfront, he would close literally every little hole – and his nights became even less comfortable.

Of course, it was also even more humid, and he often woke up bathed in sweat. Alas, there was nothing he could do about it. The electrical wiring in his house would not survive if he connected a fan or an air conditioning system to it. Not to mention that it would likely be useless, anyway, because the shack was constructed in a manner that let air in and out (which sounded like there was a draft – but there really wasn’t… at least it wasn’t the kind of draft that did anything beyond moving the dust bunnies from one side of the room to the other), so the cooling effect would most likely just vanish into thin air – literally.

And he wasn’t willing to move to town where he might have been able to get accommodation with air conditioning.

It seemed contradictory, considering that he saw himself as a city person – but what people didn’t understand was that it was the anonymity of the city that he loved – not the crowds of people. Of course, both aspects were connected – or two sides of the same coin, to be more precise. But what Richard loved about the crowds was that he could simply disappear in them. He didn’t like standing out – other than with his professional skills. He preferred remaining unseen in most everyday situations – it was the heritage of his time in boarding school when standing out meant negative consequences – usually. Even (or was it rather ‘particularly’?) good marks could mean negative consequences – more than once he had been bullied by others because he had written good essays, had received good marks and was presented as an example to his classmates. He had learnt that staying under people’s radar could be a lifesaver.

All his life, he’d been trying to hide himself. That had been one of the reasons why he had applied for positions in the British capital. London obviously had given him the possibility to disappear and melt with the crowd. In the masses, he could hide his insecurities. They still were there, of course, but they got overlooked. He was just one of many individuals, one little speck in the swarm of somberly dressed people. Nobody looked at him.

Honoré, however, where his current police station was situated, wasn’t big enough to provide this anonymity. Even if he had decided to abandon his suits and ties and tried to be a bit more approachable – it still would have been difficult. It wasn’t only because he was clearly not of Caribbean descent – many people from the UK and other European countries had moved to live on Saint Marie, and there also were a couple of American business people, so he really wasn’t the only one who didn’t look Caribbean.

Of course, he stuck out because of his attire – people in suits were clearly not the rule on the island. But it was also because he was very private and reserved, and that was something that the island people found extremely puzzling.

Everyone was curious about what their neighbours did – and what the neighbours’ neighbours did. The island grapevine was a very effective resource for solving crimes, but other than that, it didn’t hold any fascination for Richard who hated people who wanted to meddle and tried to stick their nose into his business. He had always been a very private person, and the way everything seemed to be a public affair in Honoré irritated him immensely.

The tourists and part time residents from other countries who came here for their holidays or extended stays had no idea – they stayed in big resorts, with other tourists, or they had a large, airy mansion – if they could afford it. But that was not the same like living with the locals all year round. Also, many of the permanent residents who came from abroad usually lived in specific areas – Richard hesitated to call them ghettos, but to a certain extent that was what they were. They were recently built bungalows that were bought by wealthier people, some were used as holiday villas, and as a matter of fact, you hardly found anyone living there who actually had been born and raised on Saint Marie.

So, he still lived in the same beach shack that he had taken over from his predecessor… who had been killed by one of his police officers. Not a great omen, Richard mused as he was turning over in his bed. Lily, the police officer that had been found guilty of murdering Charlie Hulme, had actually been a rather pleasant person… and another example of how perfectly nice people could develop a considerable measure of criminal energy and turn into murderers eventually.

Not for the first time, Richard thought that the general public’s idea that killers had to be insane and somehow “out of the norm” was a profound misconception. The truth was that killers weren’t “out of the norm” – unless they were psychopaths, and those fortunately weren’t as common as people seemed to think.

In his experience, literally anybody could turn into a killer – murder usually was connected to relationships and the accompanying circumstances. If you put enough pressure on people, hardly anyone would resist and not kill their tormentor if given the opportunity and the means to do so, and if you made people feel inferior and worthless for long enough, they would look for a way out – and if there seemed to be no way they could get away from the situation, they’d either take their own lives or kill the person they held responsible for their agony.

Well, whatever. Hurricane season also meant that it was a little more quiet at the station as it was when considerably fewer tourists came to the island. Of course, there were still people who couldn’t be put off, but the majority of tourists came during the rest of the year, when it was winter in Europe and North America, and that meant there were fewer crimes altogether – fewer accidents as well – simply because there were fewer people around, plus tourists often were victims of theft or pick-pocketing, they got into fights and brawls at the clubs regularly, and there were more murders, too, during tourist season. Now, during hurricane season, a lot of the clubs had shorter opening hours, so that meant fewer opportunities to get into a fix.

It also meant less income for the locals, but they were used to that, so most of them got by somehow, despite the fact that life in the Caribbean – opposite to general opinion – was not particularly cheap since so many convenience goods had to get imported. But the locals didn’t complain. It was all part of their rhythm of life. Overall, they were rather relaxed, anyway, even if they were extremely busy during tourist season. They always had time for cracking a joke, cuddling a child or feeding a stray cat.

Richard marvelled at people’s ability to just adapt to life and its obstacles and challenges so easily – well, he was cautious when it came to generalisations, but overall, the people here seemed to take things a lot easier than in the UK. He wondered if it was maybe genetic. Or it could be that it just was the result of being born and growing up in this climate!

The rich people in their residences who pretended to be all relaxed and carefree while they stayed on the island of Saint Marie actually could be rather uptight and expected things to go their way – they just adapted to island life on the surface. He had observed that during his stay here – several times, he had encountered people who claimed they’d enjoy the Caribbean rhythm of life and all that, but they got all upset and annoyed when they had to wait forever in restaurants or found that the soap in their room hadn’t been refilled by noon because the maid hadn’t managed to come round yet because she had had to chat to the gardener or the cleaner who was a cousin or a friend or a friend’s cousin, or a cousin’s friend.

He also was intrigued by their readiness to believe in things like voodoo and all sorts of supernatural phenomena – it seemed completely illogical to him, but then again, each to their own. He rather believed in scientific proof, logic and common sense. Sometimes, however, he thought that his life would be a lot easier if he could just loosen up a little. He knew that he often was too pedantic, too meticulous, too accurate – if there was such a thing as being too accurate! By the same token… that were the qualities he needed for his job, and they were part of his personality, anyway – he couldn’t deny that. So, wasn’t it pointless wishing to be different?

Six o’clock. Time to get up. Well, not really, but he’d have to get up in half an hour, anyway, so why bother and spend another half hour sweating in bed… Richard yawned, sat up and took a deep breath. Let’s see what the day would bring.


	2. Restlessness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Chapter 1 was a little short, here's Chapter 2 - fairly quickly - so you'll have something to read over the weekend. Have fun :-)

The day didn’t bring anything spectacular to begin with, as it turned out. Lots of file work, some minor cases that had occurred over the previous days had to be summarised in a report – thefts, nocturnal disturbances, driving under the influence… that sort of thing. After lunchtime, Fidel – the youngest officer – and his colleague Dwayne patrolled the market while Camille – the beautiful, stubborn and unbelievably confusing Detective Sergeant – dug out notes she had taken during an IT course a while ago and went through them to sum them up and write a more concise manual for a specific database.

Richard took the opportunity to observe her as he was sitting behind his computer – she was completely oblivious to his glances, otherwise he would never have dared to look at her like that. She was one of the factors that made his work (and life!) on Saint Marie so interesting – and so difficult.

She was beautiful (and very sexy, as Richard admitted to himself – although he never would have used that word in her presence), but that wasn’t all – she was also very intelligent, and over the past years he had learnt to appreciate her cleverness, resourcefulness and intuition. They had disliked each other heartily at first – or so it had seemed… he didn’t know how she had felt about him, but he suspected there hadn’t been many – if any - positive aspects in her judgement. He knew only too well how starchy and clumsy he sometimes appeared to others…

As far as he was concerned, he had actually found her very attractive from the start… But despite her intelligence and her beauty - he had held a grudge against her. After all, she had made him look very stupid when he arrested her, convinced that she was a suspect while in fact she was working undercover and reporting to the Commissioner. And she hadn’t been excited about how over-ambitiously he had acted towards her – plus he had come across as a pedantic idiot… which he wasn’t. He was just very accurate!

Had he known that she had been working on the same case… then he would have acted differently. But the Commissioner hadn’t thought it necessary to inform him that this mysterious woman was one of his undercover specialists, so when Richard had arrested her, the Commissioner hadn’t been very happy with him. And as her cover had been blown, she had needed a new job – since Lily had just been put behind bars as Richard had proven that she had killed Charlie Hulme, his predecessor, there had been a vacancy in the team… and Camille had been right there to step in.

What a nightmare that had been… the first few weeks had not been easy. It hadn’t helped that Camille was exceptionally pretty and seemed to throw herself at life, curious to see where it would lead her next. She was basically fearless – or so it appeared at least. He was sure she had demons that haunted her, too – everybody had those, in one way or another. But she always seemed so positive! She had charisma, and her sometimes very illogical and intuitive way of looking at things was paired with a sharp mind – Richard had found it hard to escape the magic spell that this combination put on him.

Life seemed easy for her… That fascinated him. He usually felt that life was hard – although, when he looked at it neutrally, that wasn’t true. He knew that, instinctively. It was just that he was apparently the type who could never be happy - while Camille appeared to push all the difficulties aside and enjoyed life and all its different aspects.

And his natural reaction to her was that he was struggling – one part of him (disturbingly, that part was getting continuously stronger!) was extremely attracted to her, the other part tried to stay away and ignore her as far as possible. The truth was – he was afraid. Not so much of her… well, yes, a little bit, perhaps… But if he was honest, he was more afraid of himself, of his strong reaction to her. It seemed wiser to stay away… He figured that nothing could come out of it, anyway, since he knew that he was fairly useless when it came to social skills, anyway, and with women, it was unproportionally more difficult for him.

Again, that was his heritage from boarding school – and natural shyness, combined with a few romantic disappointments in the past. Plus, he knew that - when it came to physical aspects - he wasn’t a particularly breathtaking or even remarkable man. He wasn’t as tall as he would have wished to be, and even in his 20s he had never been the type that women would have looked at twice. By now, his hair had become thinner, the lines in his face had become deeper, and his light skin didn’t help, either. It wasn’t his fault that he just wouldn’t tan, just like it wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t taller or more attractive in general, he knew all that. But that didn’t mean he didn’t feel self-conscious about it, and he just couldn’t imagine Camille would ever consider him as a possible partner. Why would she do that, after all?

He also knew that he had his quirks and obsessions, and like anyone who had lived on their own for a long time, there was a certain self-centredness. He was well aware of that – being by himself enabled him to follow his own route and nurse his foibles, and yes, some of them certainly appeared weird to others. He knew all that.

Camille’s hunger for life and its adventures and her general vivacity attracted him like a bright light attracted moths and bugs. Not a very flattering analogy for him – he didn’t fancy comparing himself to a moth or a bug - but at least somewhat accurate. By the same token, it scared him, and out of fear to get burnt, he retreated behind his already existing walls, trying to build them higher and higher. However, it was futile– she kept getting closer, tearing down the walls in the process, little by little.

She fascinated him, and he couldn’t talk himself out of this… well, what was it? Friendship? Infatuation? He wasn’t sure what he felt for her. It was diffuse, and he didn’t dare to dig deeper to find out more. It seemed better to stick his head in the sand and try to ignore whatever feelings he might have for her.

He just knew that life on Saint Marie would be rather boring without her, and she was the one who spiced it all up and made work more meaningful. While they had had difficulties at first to adjust to each other, they had become a really good team over the last 2 years… and he had to admit that he had never had a better partner in his work life, despite all the differences between them. What she was to him beyond that – he didn’t want to think about it… At least not now.

**************

Camille wasn’t as oblivious to his glances as he thought. She noticed that he kept looking at her, and she wondered what he was up to. He was driving her bonkers. Why couldn’t he make a move and say something for a change instead of driving her crazy with his staring?

Hurricane season always made her restless for a variety of reasons. The days leading up to a storm were particularly disconcerting and unsettling. She felt the increasing ‘intensity’ – for lack of a better word – of the weather conditions in her blood – that made her uneasy and sometimes also irritable. She couldn’t make plans and exercise outside the way she was used to as the weather was less predictable, and she was more prone to mood swings because she didn’t have her usual outlet.

Camille’s mother – who owned a bar in town - didn’t make a huge fuss about hurricane season – it was several months, you couldn’t just stop all your activities. But she did make concessions – there was no point in keeping the bar open for the same hours as during tourist season, and the selection of snacks that she usually offered was reduced to a minimum. There were fewer people, and so she opened later in the day and was more flexible with her schedule altogether.

When a storm was brewing, she usually closed down early, and on some days, when business was slow throughout the day, she didn’t bother to keep open, either. She had savings, and she had learnt the hard way that it was pointless to stay in the bar in the hope that one customer would show up – you didn’t earn any money that way, you rather threw it out of the window because you maintained the kitchen service, fresh supplies went bad because you didn’t use them, and your time was wasted on top of all that.

The fact that Catherine cut back the opening hours of her bar during hurricane season meant that they had the chance to spend more time together – which was nice on one hand. On the other hand, it gave her mother the opportunity to think too much about certain aspects of Camille’s life that she wasn’t completely happy with, and that resulted in amiable conversations at the best of times, when Camille managed to remain fairly quiet - but then there also were heated discussions sometimes… and even bad arguments at other times. In combination with her own restlessness, that was a recipe for disaster.

She was getting seriously tired of discussing the same thing over and over with her mother. She swore, if she had to answer the question “Why don’t you finally settle down with a nice man and have some kids” one more time she’d run off screaming. Of course, Catherine came up with a multitude of variations of the same topic... Sometimes, they talked about something completely different – in fact, it could be anything… and all of a sudden, Camille found herself being confronted with the same question again.

She was so fed up with this all. She had explained over and over that she wasn’t ready to settle down and have a family at this point, that she wasn’t sure she’d stay on Saint Marie (there always was a possibility that she might return to Paris or move to another island… she had sent in her CV and applied for jobs a couple of times, but so far to no avail… well, she didn’t necessarily have to tell her mother that she had stopped making efforts in that direction since Aimee’s murder because she felt she needed time to regroup and come to her senses again – moving would not have helped in that situation, and then… there were other factors that her mother didn’t have to know about, either…), that she would only fall in love with someone who inspired, respected and appreciated her – not only as an exotic trophy wife, but as a person… so far, all men her mother had set her up with in the dreaded blind dates had been nice enough, but they had clearly not been what she was looking for. And she wasn’t making any efforts of her own to meet anybody because… well, she just wasn’t interested.

Only once she had thought that maybe something could come out of all the blind date stuff… but then it had turned out that the man she had thought was her date hadn’t been her date after all… so, that was that.

She wasn’t going to tell her mother about all that. It was futile. Catherine wouldn’t understand.

She couldn’t explain, either, that she wasn’t even sure at this point if she wanted children at all. Her mother wouldn’t understand that, either - she knew that. It was interesting how differently people looked at things from their respective point of view… Her mother had always said that it hadn’t been so bad altogether when Camille’s father had left the family – after all, Camille had been there, and Catherine had been happy about having her daughter – no matter how difficult it had been to raise her all by herself. She still said now that it had absolutely been worth it, and she never had needed a man.

Camille, however, had not forgotten the endless evenings that her mother had spent working, and while she had never really missed material things, she had missed having her mother around, and she had missed having a father. It had taught her to fend for herself – more so than her friends who came from intact families – so perhaps that was a good thing, after all, as it made her independent and strong, but well, she still missed having another ‘focus’ in her life, someone who’d look at things from a different angle, at least sometimes. Rationally, she knew that her father – had he stayed – wouldn’t have fit that picture, either… but that didn’t help.

She had not forgotten her mother’s worry lines, either, when things hadn’t gone so well. There hadn’t been anybody around Catherine could have shared her problems and worries with – she hadn’t burdened Camille with that, obviously, but she had dealt with trouble by herself. There hadn’t been anybody she could have turned to for advice or for comfort. And while she had never really appeared unhappy, Camille had seen that she had paid a price for not having the independence she would have had without a child.

Children were fine, sure – but not at all cost. First of all, you had to find someone whom you wanted to share your life with, then you could think about having kids. Having a child meant responsibility, and as Camille saw it, she’d rather share that with an equal partner who’d take his position as a father seriously. But where would you find a man like that?

Camille didn’t believe that all men were useless – she had seen enough examples where marriages worked out well (Juliet and Fidel, for instance… and the Commissioner and his wife seemed quite happy as well, particularly considering the long duration of their marriage – from what Camille knew, they didn’t live in different worlds like so many older couples did – apparently they still loved each other and were happy to spend time together) -, but she was scared to throw all her achievements and the successful years at work away for starting a family with someone she’d hardly know – and in the end it wouldn’t work out, she’d be alone again, and she’d struggle like her mother.

She knew it was faulty logic, after all – of course, it could work out, and her worries and the fear of failure would have been a waste of time and energy then. But well, it was how she felt about the situation. Maybe the fact that her father had left the family had traumatised her more than she realised – whatever it was, she couldn’t ignore this feeling of wanting to be independent, yet having someone to rely on. There had to be a way. And if not – well, then it was maybe better to be alone.

The few relationships she had had in her life had all ended for different reasons, as it seemed – but upon a closer look it was always the same thing… she and her partner had had different ideas about the future. She hadn’t wanted to settle down and lose herself in the role of the happy wife and mother. She had always felt that the men she had met and got involved with took things too far too quickly – how was she supposed to know if she wanted to live with a man and have a child with him if she had only been together with him for half a year? Or the opposite had been the case… they hadn’t been serious about the relationship – they had just wanted to have fun, but hadn’t wanted the commitment and the responsibility. There was more to being in a relationship than taking the garbage out every once in a blue moon.

And so many of those so-called dream weddings she had attended over the years – as a bridesmaid, or as a spectator or guest - had been nothing but a huge swindle… First there had been the big shows in church, the cutaways and fancy dresses, hats, frills and fascinators, exquisite parties with hundreds of guests - and then the ‘happy couple’ had split up after a year or two, and all the vows of endless love had been forgotten – no, thanks.

As far as she was concerned, people overdid it, anyway – getting married was a private matter, after all. Why would you invite five hundred people for that, throw yourself into debt and pay off loans for a long time – for a party? That seemed fairly pointless. You couldn’t possibly have five hundred friends that you wanted to celebrate with…

Camille had also learnt that things could go stale after a while – no matter how enthusiastically a relationship had started – when you didn’t evolve together. It was normal that people developed in different directions, but if there was no common ground to move on, it was hard to stay together. Relationships could be hard work – and both partners had to be willing to put in some effort. Sure, no risk – no fun… there was truth in this. But while Camille was coquettish and flirtatious on the surface, she wasn’t generous with her ‘favours’ – she knew when to pull the ripcord and withdraw.

She wanted a man who’d take the time to get to know her, her real self with all the good and not so good sides – someone who would look at what was beneath the surface, who would accept that she wasn’t in a sunshiny mood all the time (although she tended to be a happy person overall, she had phases when she wasn’t, and when she was stressed, she could get rather nasty… she knew that!), someone who would give her space and wouldn’t walk away and go into a sulk when she wanted to be left in peace. Someone who wasn’t clingy – who would want to spend time with her but wouldn’t expect her to be his pet, constantly at his beck and call and curling up in his lap. She wanted a friend. Friends didn’t leave you. Lovers were a different story. If a friend became your lover, chances were that you’d have enough in common to stick it out together…

She generally was a people person, but she needed to recharge her batteries every once in a while as well – and downtime, spent by herself, was necessary then. She usually took a walk on the beach then – in Paris it had been walks in the park or along the Seine – or went for a run or a hike (that depended on the weather, obviously, and on her schedule…) so she could connect to nature and be alone with her thoughts and feelings. She missed having someone to discuss her reflections with – most of the time, she was okay with that, but there were times when she would have liked to have someone to turn to… who’d listen to her, take her seriously and help her to understand… Her friend Aimee had been there for her in situations like that, but she was dead… and Camille had been feeling quite lonely since Aimee had been killed.

That was a side she didn’t reveal to many people. She believed in saying what she meant, and she appreciated honesty from others, but that didn’t mean she was blunt and inconsiderate. She seemed happy-go-lucky, she knew that – and most of the time she approached life in a pragmatic way, decided quickly and accepted the outcome – but over the really important things, she could agonize quite a bit. She wasn’t always as spontaneous as she appeared to be.

A little nervously, she realised that Richard still was staring at her. If she hadn’t known any better, she would have said he was ogling her… but she didn’t wear anything provocative today, so it couldn’t be that. Her top didn’t show much cleavage, and she was wearing her comfortable long khaki trousers, so it wasn’t any spectacular outfit that would justify the long glances he was taking. He had never ogled her openly, anyway… at least not in the same way like he had looked at women they had encountered through their work.

She remembered all the occasions when his caginess had annoyed her – it had taken her a while to understand that despite his professional brilliance he was insecure and inhibited, and that his demonstrative Englishness (in alliance with his suit!) was an armour he was wearing. When he was ‘normal’, he was actually really nice. And he was reliable. He also was predictable – which could come across as boring at first, but also could be a big advantage as you knew you could count on him. It was actually a side-effect of his reliability… or maybe just the other side of the coin… When he made a promise, he kept it. When his reaction to something was evasive, you knew he wouldn’t make a commitment, no matter how hard you tried to push him.

Seriously, this man was driving her crazy. She had found him irritating at first, then over time she had grown to understand and even like him. He was still an awfully awkward stuffed shirt, but he had become a lot better, particularly over the past few months. It seemed that he had finally accepted that he’d stay here and made a few adjustments in his behaviour and attitude. He had become a little more sociable, and it was nice to see him more at ease with people in general. Also, he was not as reserved with her as he had used to be – they were talking about more personal things in the meantime now. Nothing too ‘deep’ – but still, she felt it was a success that he didn’t shut her out any more as he used to do at first.

Of course, she was more spontaneous than Richard, she reflected. Anyone and everyone was more spontaneous than him, actually. He was just so set in his ways. If she hadn’t witnessed his amazing sense of humour so many times by now, she would have described him as sedate and boring. But that wouldn’t have done him justice – he had a lot of different sides. Many of his quirks were just plain odd, but he was intelligent, and fortunately, his social skills had improved with time.

On top of all that, the two of them had their own specific code with each other by now. They complemented each other in their ways of approaching cases – things that he didn’t notice, inevitably didn’t escape her – and the other way round. Together, they had got to the ground of many cases that others never would have solved, and while she knew that it was a group effort that Dwayne and Fidel contributed to as well, she was well aware of the fact that it was Richard and her who were the motor of it.

The last year had changed a lot between them – the loss of Aimee had had a huge impact on her, and the way he had talked during the night in the weather station… it was hard to believe that almost a year had gone by since then. Time was a strange thing… you blinked and a year was gone… and at other times, five minutes seemed to be so long that you didn’t know how you would survive them. In any event, their relationship had changed, they had become friends, she felt… and she was glad that the tension between them wasn’t so unbearable any more.

Well, that wasn’t quite true. There still was tension – just not the same kind of tension. And sometimes it still was unbearable… but in a different way. Initially, there had been quite a bit of thinly veiled, suppressed aggression between them. That had developed into mutual respect and tolerance, with the occasional tension of misunderstandings, mostly caused by culture clashes based on their different background and – of course - the eternal scenario of male and female communication patterns. They still had their famous shouting matches from time to time, but they were less vehement these days. So, that sort of tension had gone.

Now… well, now there was more of a different tension between them. Camille was reluctant to name it, but it was there… sometimes it was almost tangible. She wondered if he also felt it... And if he did, how he felt about it…

And he was still staring! Whatever it was that he had on his mind… she wished he’d say something.

But well, maybe it was up to her to finally break the silence….

She cleared her throat and said “I’ve been thinking…” Richard raised his eyebrows as she looked at him. In his experience this introduction didn’t bode well. But well, it couldn’t hurt to listen. So, he shoved the keyboard away and sat back, looking at her expectantly.


	3. Changes? Yes - changes!

When Dwayne and Fidel returned from their patrol a little while later, they found Camille and the Chief sitting at their desks, just the way they had left them. However, something was different. Richard was not working on the computer, he was sitting there with his favourite private pencil and a ruler, drawing something on a sheet of graph paper. A tape measure was sitting on his desk, half-hidden under a sheet of ruled paper, full of notes scribbled in Richard’s handwriting

And Camille was busy looking at… paint companies and colour patterns! Both were totally engrossed in their respective activity.

Richard looked up as the two officers walked in and said “Ah, Fidel… Dwayne… everything okay down on the market?” “Yes, sir,” the younger officer replied. “It took us a little longer to get back because we had to help one of the ladies straightening up her stall – it had fallen all over the place when a gust of wind hit.”

“What are you doing there?” Dwayne asked curiously, pointing at Camille’s monitor. Camille shot an inquiring glance at Richard, and he nodded. “Go ahead,” he said.

“Well… you know how we keep complaining about how dingy and dull the station looks and how we don’t have enough outlets for all our appliances and wish we could make a few changes… I happened to bump into the Commissioner the other day, and I asked him if there’s any possibility we could renovate the place. He said there’s not much money for that sort of thing, but we should make a few suggestions and collect prices, and he’d decide then. I don’t think we can get the place completely rewired – that would be too expensive, and also it would be very time consuming. It would be worth finding out if we can get it partly rewired, though, so that at least not everytime we try to switch on the fan some other device gives up the ghost. Perhaps one of you knows an electrician who could take a look and let us know if there’s a way to revamp the fusebox accordingly.”

Dwayne nodded and said “Yep, I think I could ask Eddie to do that for us. He’s pretty good at these things – oh, and it’s all legal,” he added quickly as he saw Richard raising his eyebrows. “Really, Chief – he works for one of the local stores,” confirmed Fidel. “He did some electrical work in my parents’ house a while ago, and they were happy with how he did it. Very organised and tidy, too. For an electrician, at least. You know they are all divas, but some are worse than others… It’s worth asking him. He would surely make us a good price, too.”

That sounded at least tolerable to Richard. As it was, some of Dwayne’s friends were a bit shady, but this one seemed okay… although he wanted to wait with his judgement until he had met him.

“Right,” he said and then added a little pompously “Camille – I think you should go on so Dwayne and Fidel get a better idea of the whole thing.”

Camille arched her eyebrows and was about to say something sarcastic but then realised he didn’t mean it in a derogatory way. So she simply continued “I think that it will be most important to get the electricity sorted out, and then we can get the whole station painted. The painting itself shouldn’t take much time – the cells won’t get painted this time around, they were done a little while ago, as the Commissioner said. The trouble with the painting job is that we will have to move all the filing cabinets and furniture into the middle of the room beforehand, so the station will pretty much be unusable for two or three days or so – I don’t think it’ll take longer than a day to paint all the walls here, but I reckon it takes a while for the paint to dry, and with the weather being the way it is… we might have to fasten up the shutters for good and basically close everything down, so the smell of the paint will not go away as quickly as it would if we could let in lots of air.”

Fidel asked “Do you have a specific company in mind for that painting job?” “Not yet, no – but if you have any idea, I’ll be happy to hear your suggestion,” Richard said. “But well… As it is, I will have to get several quotations for the Commissioner so he can see that we have been considerate and asked around, so I can’t make any promises in regard to who will get the contract in the end – I’m sure you’ll understand that. That also applies to the rewiring, but I think the Commissioner will be less nitpicky there as there are fewer electricians around, and it’s usually hard to get hold of them, so he’ll most likely agree with whatever suggestion we come up in that respect.”

Fidel nodded and promised to ask his parents as well as his parents-in-law. He added “If my father-in-law recommends someone, I can certainly vouch for the quality. He is very, very nitpicky and super-accurate, so if he’s happy with a job, then it’s very likely that we will be happy, too.”

“So, how are we going to keep up working when the station is getting revamped?” Dwayne asked. He knew that Richard wouldn’t say they could just take the time off – that wouldn’t happen. But he hoped they could at least take things a little easier… So he was rather pleased when Richard explained that the tentative plan was to get the electricity sorted out in the beginning of a week, on a Monday or Tuesday, and then the painting should get done over Thursday and – perhaps - Friday.

“That way, we can see if the first coat of paint is enough, or if we’ll have to get it painted for a second time. And I think it’s enough if one of us is around during that period – I’d say that at least one more person should be on call, and other than that, I have no real plan. I just hope it’ll stay as quiet as it is right now. As for taking time off… It depends on whether or not you’d care to take overtime for that – I mean, you all do regular nightshifts and emergency shifts, so you can take off time easily, and we can get it all done without much of a hassle. If you decide to stay on call, I will need to have your word, though, that you’ll show up if necessary – you would have to stick around in the vicinity and couldn’t go fishing or swan off to Guadeloupe for a wellness and beauty treatment.”

The last remark was obviously aimed at Camille who had taken out a nailfile and started to work on one of her fingernails that had got a little torn a few minutes ago. She shot him an indignant look and said huffily “Well, thank you very much – as if I’d ever break my word! And special thanks for letting me know that I look run down – I know that very well already. Maman doesn’t let a day pass without telling me I should go and get myself pampered. Great to know that it’s really that bad… Yes, many thanks for being a toad and pointing it out like that…”

She put down the nailfile, jumped up from her chair and marched outside. She stopped on the porch where she stood by the balustrade, her arms folded and her features tense. So that was why he had been staring – even he had noticed that she looked tired and weary. How charming. As if she didn’t know herself that she wasn’t looking her best these days… She had had a couple of restless nights lately, and the bags under her eyes were harder to cover up than ever before.

Granted, only a complete moron like Richard could come up with pointing out the obvious like that… She was infuriated. A few minutes ago while they had been measuring out the station (which was why her fingernail was torn now), they had exchanged some harmless banter – well, not excessively so, Richard never went over the top with that sort of thing, but it had been nice to see him a little more relaxed, and they had felt at ease with one another. He had actually reacted quite enthusiastically (for his standards) to her suggestion to revamp the station, and they had exchanged a couple of remarks of what they’d like to have done. Some of these ‘ideas’ had been clearly unrealistic, and Camille had laughed when Richard had suggested they should try and convince the Commissioner to get a fridge-freezer for them, complete with an ice dispenser and a built in drinking fountain.

And then he had to spoil the good atmosphere by saying she looked run down!

“Uh-oh,” Dwayne muttered to himself. Fidel looked down on his shoes, clearly feeling uncomfortable. Richard mouthed ‘What?’ Dwayne made a jerky movement with his head in the door’s direction and whispered “she’s upset with you”. Richard whispered back “Well, I can see that… what now?” Fidel murmured quietly “No woman likes to hear that she looks run down!”

“Well, I didn’t say that…”

The two other men just looked at him, pity in their eyes. Richard understood that he had to make amends, or Camille would hate him for who-knew-how-long, and the tension would be unbearable.

He sighed and went outside, cursing his talent to put his foot in it wherever he could. As he approached Camille, she shifted her stance and turned her back on him demonstratively. Oh dear, it was that bad…

Richard took a deep breath and said to her (or rather to her back) “Um… Camille…” She stiffened a little, and he had the impression that her jaw was set a bit more firmly now, but other than that – no reaction. Right. So he had to jump into the deep end. No, he would not grovel. But he knew he’d have to come up with a real apology. One that she would find acceptable. As always with Camille, this was easier said than done!

He racked his brain for a moment, then he tried again: “Camille, please… I’m – er – I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have – er – said this. I don’t know why I said it – you have never let me down, so it’s not that I have any reason to doubt you. Look… I know that it was… it was a stupid thing to say. And really, you look… fine. Not as bright and chipper as on some other days, but… still… I mean, you always look – um – remarkable. Really, I’m sorry.”

There was no reply. Her shoulders still were stiff, and he sensed that it hadn’t been good enough. So – although he was getting close to the end of his tether (why did women always have to do that sort of thing… they claimed they wanted people to be honest, and when they got honesty, they weren’t happy with it, either! And he had not said that she looked run down… although, come to think of it, she really didn’t look as fresh and bright as she usually did…) – he gave it another shot.

“Camille… I don’t know what else you want me to say.” His voice was a strange mix of concern and impatience. “I didn’t mean to say that you’d want to take advantage of the situation and vanish into thin air – I know you wouldn’t do that, and you know that I know… so it’s pointless to discuss this – you’re a reliable officer, and I have no doubts in you. And… and the other thing… I didn’t mean… Right. You do look a little tired, and again, you know that yourself. I hope – I mean, I hope that there’s nothing serious that brings you down and that you’ll be your happy self again soon. But… you… I mean… it’s none of my business, and I didn’t mean to pick on you. Please… let’s not get cross with one another over something like that. It’s really not worth it.”

Her head sank for a moment, then she heaved a sigh and turned around. “I know,” she said quietly. Her eyes were cast down. When she looked up, he could see she was trying to smile. “I hate to say it, but I must apologise for over-reacting. I have been a bit edgy over the past few days. And I’m sorry that I called you a toad. That was rude, and I don’t mean it.”

She sighed again, and he felt he was forgiven. Then suddenly, as she saw the relief on his face, her eyes began to sparkle as she continued “But to hear you apologising and saying I look remarkable – that was priceless. I’m almost glad that I got mad at you!”

She flashed him a real smile now and extended her hand, asking “Friends again?” Although he wasn’t so keen on physical contact and tried to avoid it for reasons he didn’t want to talk about (during his school years, physical contact had usually meant trouble, and he had just never felt very comfortable with others touching him… In Camille’s case, his hesitancy had different reasons, though – her touch had a confusing effect on him, and he felt safer if he kept away from her. Which – admittedly – sometimes was hard… but it was better for him not to let her get too close!), he took the proffered hand and squeezed it – briefly – as he nodded and confirmed a little starchily “Friends!”

He was very relieved to see that he was forgiven. One thing was that she was awful to be around when she was miffed with him, and the other thing was that he really hadn’t intended to hurt her. It had been thoughtless of him to make this remark. She obviously was going through a bit of a rough patch, although he had no idea why – she hadn’t talked about any problems she might have. But then again, she wasn’t the complaining type – she was more the kind of person who’d see problems as challenges and tend to make quick decisions… and accept the consequences then.

Maybe it was something with her mother? Richard knew that she was very close to Catherine, but he sensed that they didn’t always share the same view on all aspects of life… which could make things difficult when you were so close. More than once, Camille had grumbled over issues that her mother had come up with… In the end, however, neither she nor Catherine were resentful or unforgiving – they usually got along very well again quickly after arguments.

Whatever it was, it was none of his business. If she didn’t tell him, he wouldn’t probe. As long as things would get back to normal eventually, he had no reason for being curious about her life. At this point, he was only glad that she had accepted his apology.

He suggested awkwardly “Come in again, and help us decide on a colour for the walls, all right?” Camille smiled and nodded. As she walked past him, she gave him a provocative look from beneath her lashes – and he blushed. How on earth did she do that – switch from annoyed and offended to seductive and flirtatious? Not that she’d flirt with him, but well… He felt his skin prickling as he followed her.

Dwayne and Fidel had observed the little scene. They looked at each other, smiling approvingly, and Dwayne remarked in a low voice “Can’t say he hasn’t learnt with time, huh! She has him wrapped around her finger!” Fidel grinned and added “Hmm. That’s right. But she’s more forgiving as well… she used to make a song and a dance about his – er –“ He struggled to find a word that didn’t make him sound disloyal to his Chief – he held him in high esteem, after all, and was grateful that Richard had put him forward and recommended him for the Sergeants’ exams. Dwayne just chuckled. He knew what Fidel wanted to express. As Camille and Richard entered the station again now, there was no need to continue their conversation, anyway.

Richard pretended that nothing had happened – a tried and tested way to handle tricky situations! – and addressed the two officers “So, what do you think regarding the colour of the walls? Camille has looked up the various samples that different paint companies have on display on the net, but I would think that it might be easier to make a decision when we have narrowed down the general direction and know which colour group we’d like to stick to – and then we can make a better decision when we get the samples from the painter. On the computer things always look brighter than in reality.”

They discussed the various possibilites. It was clear that they couldn’t go for a dark colour – the station wasn’t large to begin with, and painting it in a darker colour would make it appear even smaller and more cramped. Blue, red and green were quickly dismissed. Richard groaned when Dwayne pointed at a turquoise patch on a website.

“Really, Dwayne, wouldn’t we feel like fish sitting in a bloody aquarium?” “Well, Chief, I was only thinking of you – you might feel a little cooler then,” Dwayne smirked.

Richard raised his eyebrows and came up with a sardonic smile. They all laughed, but somehow he didn’t mind. They laughed with him… not about him. Then Fidel looked around and said “Well, honestly… I quite like the current colour.”

The walls were presently painted in a really nice yellow which they actually all liked. But the colour had chipped off and faded in some corners, in others, it had become darker. There was a number of nasty stains, too, and when they moved one of the filing cabinets to see what it looked like behind, they realised that there were dirt edges all around the piece of furniture.

Camille said what they all thought “The colour actually is okay, it would just need some refreshing. Maybe we could get a bit of a brighter shade this time, but in general, I think it’s okay the way it is. This might not be very original, but why should we switch to another colour if we like this one?”

“Great,” Richard said. He was pleased with this decision – it had been made quickly, and since he didn’t like changes very much, anyway, he was happy. As far as he was concerned, yellow was an excellent choice. “Once I’ve compiled all the relevant details and put down our wishes, we can get quotations. And we should think about re-arranging the furniture – before the electrician comes. As Camille mentioned, we might want him to put in a few extra outlets – he will have to look at the fusebox, anyway, and why not get a couple more outlets as well when we’ll have things renovated? We’re all a bit tired of all the extension cords we have in here. Annoying - and dangerous on top of it. Camille and I have taken the measurements of the office space while you were away as the old sketch that I found in one of the drawers was outdated – it seems that there have been renovations in the past that weren’t documented.”

He frowned in disapprovement – not only Charlie Hulme had been slack with things, as it seemed, apparently he had just been the last in a longer line of sloppy and remiss inspectors here on Saint Marie… Well, he was different! He might have his eccentricities and peculiarities, but he was not slipshod with his tasks.

He continued “I was actually just making a sketch of the room’s layout – a ground plan, so-to-speak – we can photocopy that, and each of us can make suggestions and contribute ideas. Fidel, you might want to take the layout home when it’s done and ask Juliet if she has any ideas, also about the furniture arrangement – sometimes it’s easier for an outsider to look at things as they aren’t biased. I’d like to have the whole thing done and over with during the current season – so everything will be new and shiny when the tourist season will recommence.”

He sat down at his desk again while Dwayne, Fidel and Camille continued discussing a few more details, and went on with the layout. The things you had to do as Chief of a small police station in the middle of nowhere… In London, this never would have happened. The Met had a huge department dealing with building, construction and maintenance affairs, and the detectives… well, they did detective work. Sometimes, administrative stuff would be dumped on their desks as well, and they’d have to deal with things like… well, entering their leave in an online document. But planning a renovation and trying to arrange the regular work around that – that was a first for him. Ah well. How did the saying go? “You grow with your challenges” or something like that.

When Richard checked the time again, it was almost five o’clock. His team had sat down and done their work – diligently and quietly. What a contrast to the earlier days when chaos had been the rule… He was very pleased with this day – it had turned out much better than he had expected. Of course, a murder would have been more exciting, but he was grateful that nobody was killed – although he loved solving the puzzles that came with murders.

Dwayne was the first to get up and call it a day. “Chief,” he said and nodded in Richard’s direction. Fidel stood up as well and said apologetically “I have to go when Dwayne goes – sorry! He’s taking me home with the bike today.” Richard wished them both a nice evening, and they left the station, talking and laughing.

A few minutes later, Camille got up as well and put her bag over her shoulder. She came up to Richard, lingered at the side of his desk and looked at the layout in front of him. “Wow, that’s accurate!” she said, clearly impressed. He looked up, pleased with what he sensed was a genuine compliment… although, what else had she expected? He always was accurate. Upon closer examination, however, she noticed a little mistake and pointed it out to him. “But look,” she said. “I think that this window is actually not quite as broad as you made it in your sketch.”

He frowned, checked his notes and had to admit – reluctantly - that she was right. He erased the offensive line, took the ruler out of the desk drawer again and made the necessary correction.

Camille watched him. Her eyes fell on his hands and how they held the pencil and the ruler. She had seen his hands so often over the past few years… and yet it seemed like she noticed for the first time how deftly he used them and how adroit and precise his movements were. She had never noticed the tiny hairs on his fingers, either. She remembered how he had briefly squeezed her hand a few hours ago and suddenly felt a little dizzy.

“Right. There you are. Are you happy now?” His slightly complacent voice broke her reverie. It took her a moment to react. “Oh… yes, yes. It’s perfect now.” She smiled and said softly “I’ll go now. Have a good evening, Richard.”

He looked up to her and almost smiled, too, as he said “You too, Camille.” Then, without further ado, he turned to his sketch again and added a few details. Had he looked up once more, he would have noticed that she had turned around briefly in the doorframe to watch him for another moment. Her gaze was inscrutable, but a keen observer would have detected a hint of confusion in her eyes.


	4. Observations

A few days had gone by, and things were still slow. It was good on one hand as it enabled Richard to get on with the details regarding the renovation – he had contacted three painting companies that had promised to send representatives over the next few days. Richard had prepared everything, but still… it took time to explain the details, and it was a good thing that there was no ‘real’ case to deal with at the moment as he couldn’t have focused on it the way he was used to - under the circumstances given. The renovation plans were distracting with all the little things that required his attention.

Dwayne’s friend Eddie had shown up to see what he could do about the fusebox and the extra outlets. In the meantime, he had sent an e-mail describing the necessary works, a timeframe (1 day, plus drying time for the plasterwork around the outlets) and a survey concerning the estimated cost, and apart from the adventurous spelling, Richard had no quibble about it.

On the other hand, he felt a little useless and got slightly fidgety – this downtime certainly had its good sides, but it also could get a little boring. He also noticed that the team found the ongoing slowness somewhat tedious. It was interesting how tired you could get from being bored, even if it was the ‘busy’ kind of boredom you had to deal with – there was stuff to do, but it wasn’t overly interesting. There always was file work, and they had started to look through old binders with closed cases to see if they could move them to the Government House.

The Commissioner had offered them a segment of a room belonging to the local archive department and suggested they’d bring all the old stuff there so there’d be more space for other things in the station. Richard saw this as a welcome opportunity to tidy up the station – too much stuff had accumulated, and getting rid of some of it would be a good idea.

Selwyn Patterson had been pleased when Richard had approached him regarding the renovations. There was not much money for these things in the budget, but he appreciated the Inspector’s efforts – it showed that he had an interest in the station, and also that he wanted to keep the team motivated by improving their work environment. It didn’t matter that it had been Camille who had come up with the idea in the first place. The fact that the Inspector had taken up the thread and made a move proved that he was willing to make an effort, and that was what counted to the Commissioner.

Not for the first time he congratulated himself for having tricked DI Poole into staying on Saint Marie. The man was a bit of a loner and could be as stubborn as a mule, but he was good at his job and had helped immensely to improve Saint Marie’s reputation. The crime solving rate was impressive, and that did not only refer to murders, but also to petty crime, shoplifting, theft… that sort of thing. Tourists felt safer and were happy to come back and bring their friends… And of course, that helped the economy.

It also impressed the Commissioner how Richard managed to keep the team motivated. When he had first appeared on Saint Marie, everybody had been sceptical about him – he had just seemed so outlandish and peculiar, and he had had a bit of a doubtful reputation…

Selwyn Patterson had heard through the grapevine that Poole’s team back in Croydon had thrown a huge party when he had left for Saint Marie – after his departure. He had obviously not been very popular with his colleagues there. But he was an excellent detective, and after only a few days, the Commissioner had known that he wanted to keep him on the island at all cost. He had observed how Fidel had literally blossomed out under the Inspector’s guidance, and Dwayne, who had tended to be a little too laid back at times, had started to make more serious efforts to do good work.

Even Lily had respected him – although she certainly had tried to manipulate him, for selfish reasons, as it had turned out… after all, she had been the one who had killed Charlie Hulme! She had underestimated Poole, as she had admitted later on. Based on her experiences with his predecessors, she hadn’t expected to be caught. She was a proud woman, and the way the other inspectors had handled things had offended her intelligence, as she had said in her statement during interrogations. Interesting…

As far as Camille was concerned… the Commissioner had enjoyed putting her and the Inspector in the same fishtank, as he liked to call it. They seemed to be complete opposites, and they had entirely different ways of approaching people and cases, but once they had got over their mutual dislike and accepted that they were stuck with one another, for better or for worse, they had developed into an extremely efficient team, and it was pure joy to watch them at work.

It was also utterly entertaining to see them interacting in general. Maybe, Richard Poole was as stubborn as a mule, but Camille was no better. And they seemed to enjoy playing mind games and manipulating one another. Actually, Selwyn Patterson suspected that these two felt more for one another than they cared to admit – even to themselves – but that was none of his business. He didn’t care about non-fraternisation rules. He saw them more as ‘recommendations’. They might be unavoidable in the UK, but the situation here on the island was different, so he didn’t put too much emphasis on this particular aspect of the general guidelines for staff and personnel management. As long as people worked together well and did their jobs properly, he was happy.

And Poole and Camille worked together very well.

It hadn’t escaped the Commissioner’s attention that the Inspector had apparently given up on applying to jobs in the UK – during the first year, he had constantly tried to get re-transferred – not to Croydon, of course, but to other places. That had already become less during the first half of the second year. And over the past year, it seemed that – while he had kept his eyes open – he hadn’t seen anything that he had been interested in.

Granted, there were cutbacks everywhere, so indeed, the number of suitable positions had dwindled, and maybe Inspector Poole had realised that staying on Saint Marie could be the better option… if the alternative was a position in Stockton-on-Tees or Scunthorpe, it was at least worth thinking about what he might lose and counting his blessings here on Saint Marie.

He did perhaps not like the Caribbean climate, but he had an excellent team he could rely on, and people here on the island valued his work. Being stuck in a not particularly breathtaking town in the UK wouldn’t suit Poole, that much was sure. In that respect, his resistance to change was a good thing, the Commissioner mused. The Inspector was wilful, and he was intelligent enough to understand that if the climate was the only advantage about a place, it might not be enough for him to up and leave.

During the first year of her cooperation with Poole, Camille had asked for transfers regularly, too. She had also sent out applications for other jobs – he knew about that because he was one of the main reference addresses in her CV, and he had received phone calls asking about her records. Slowly, the continuous stream of calls and e-mails had petered out, and it had stopped completely after Aimee Fredericks had been killed – Poole and his team had solved the case and brought the killer behind bars, and Camille had felt vulnerable for quite a while after the loss she had experienced – obviously she had needed some stability at this point and hence had not wanted to move away from her mother and the friends she had here.

Recently, however, Patterson had noticed a certain restlessness about Camille again. During their conversation about the possible renovation works in the station, she had made a remark that had made him prick up his ears… she had said something along the lines that ‘something had to change, or she’d go insane’. She had only said it in passing – it had sounded serious enough, though, and it had been clear that she was not referring to the station’s appearance.

He knew precisely that she missed the independence of her undercover job, but he had thought that she had settled in well in Honoré and with her work, and so he was a little alarmed by her casual statement. Well, he’d continue to wait and see – and if necessary, he’d have to make a move. But maybe, things would work themselves out… that would save him energy, time and worries.

He put those thoughts aside and focused on the paperwork regarding the renovations that the Inspector had handed in. It all looked fine – Richard had compiled a complete dossier in his own meticulous way, all quotations were attached, and there was a statement included, specifying which company he’d prefer for the painting job – of course, it was all very well reasoned, formulated in well-chosen words…

The Commissioner sighed with relief. The Inspector could be a pain in the neck at times, but he was extremely accurate, and his reports and paperwork left nothing to be desired. That saved him lots of work – he shuddered at the memory of Charlie Hulme’s reports… they often had been rambling and not precise enough, and he had had to return them for corrections and additions. Poole was the complete opposite. He brought things to the point, didn’t waste any time and energy on unnecessary aspects, and all relevant information was included.

It was interesting how this man who sometimes struggled to get out a complete sentence could be so eloquent, yet to-the-point in writing. Then again, Poole never was shy when it came to professional matters – the denouéments of his cases always were quite amazing, and it was obvious that he enjoyed being the centre of attention then. His speech was fluent and convincing in these situations – his brilliantly sharp mind came through in every word he said. He was completely present and focused.

It was a baffling contrast to how private, reserved and guarded (and clumsy, insensitive and awkward) he was in other situations. And the Commissioner knew exactly how nervous he made his Chief of Police… he quite enjoyed that on one hand, but on the other hand it meant that he would most likely never get to know Poole better than he knew him now.

Well, whatever. He rifled through the documents and decided to give his blessings to the renovation project as outlined in the dossier. The time frame and everything else was all up to Inspector Poole and his team. He e-mailed him accordingly, informed his secretary that all the bills that were handed in should be paid immediately, and then lifted the handset of the old-fashioned telephone on his desk to inform his wife about his forthcoming end of work.

**********

On the next morning, Richard was already halfway at the station when the floodgates opened and a torrential rainshower came down. There was nowhere to hide, so he just walked on, leaning forward against the wind and hoping he’d arrive at work in one piece. He wasn’t overly fond of the Caribbean climate in general, but he simply hated these unpredictable downpours.

The truth was that you knew they were coming – but you couldn’t say when. Several times, he had waited and waited to be on the safe side, and nothing had happened – and then, when he had set foot on his veranda to finally leave, the rain had begun to fall. At least then, he had remained dry as he had stayed where he’d been for the following ten or fifteen minutes – usually, it was over then, and he could set off to work without any further trouble.

Not so this time. “Just missed your timeslot, old chap,” he said to himself as he finally arrived at the station. With the strong headwind, the front of his shirt was completely soaked, despite the jacket, and his tie was a sad sight, too. Fortunately, he was early enough so he could change into something fresh without getting disturbed – or disrupting anybody’s business…

His jacket went straight on a coathanger on a shelf near his desk, then he grabbed a towel from the knob beside the sink, took a new shirt and tie out of his locker and went into the little corridor between the office and the cells. They had recently hung up a mirror in that area, and he felt more comfortable changing there than in the office – that seemed a bit open to him, and here he had a little more privacy. The (currently unoccupied) cells were open, but they had placed a screen into the corridor, so he was protected from unwanted attention from that side, if necessary. The restroom was so tiny that changing clothes in there was a bit of an acrobatic stunt, so he was pleased with having the screen so he could use the corridor now.

He knew that Camille used the mirror for freshening up, and Dwayne liked to check his attire as well before he left the station. And he did that in between as well… Richard smiled to himself – he had actually noticed that Dwayne had developed a habit of lingering in the corridor before going back to work when he had been to the restroom. He suspected that the older officer liked to parade in front of the mirror. Well, never mind. There was no harm in doing that, and Dwayne overall was a nice chap – as long as he did his job, Richard wouldn’t complain.

He got rid of the tie, unbuttoned his shirt, pulled out the tails and hung it on a hook next to the mirror. Good heavens, he looked like a drowned rat! And wait – was that a grey hair? Oh no… he was officially getting old!

He quickly dried his torso and his face. As he was toweling his hair, trying to forget the ‘find’ he had just made there, his thoughts wandered back to the events of the last few days. There had been endless hours of filing and looking through closed cases, Fidel and Dwayne had arrested a teenager who had tried to steal money out of a lady’s purse in the market, and there had been a few complaints about drunk ‘night owls’ roaming the streets and disturbing people with their singing – off-key, most likely, Richard mused.

The culprits had been found quickly thanks to people’s exact descriptions – they had been admonished, and so far, no new complaints had been filed. It was all very unspectacular. But with the renovation project planning, he didn’t mind so much – there were phonecalls to make, he had to negotiate with the painters, and there were details about the rewiring that needed to be discussed and decided… somehow, the days went by, and he didn’t feel too bored.

He still felt it wasn’t the kind of work he was supposed to be doing – he was a detective, after all – but there was no point in feeling negative about it. Someone had to do it, after all, and whether he liked it or not, he was responsible for the station and the team, so in a way, it was part of his current position.

He had noticed that Camille had been unusually quiet and a little subdued recently. He wondered if she was concerned about something or if it was only the hurricane season that brought her down – he felt the effect of it himself, he was more restless and fidgety, as if there was something in the atmosphere that he couldn’t quite shake off. He had observed that during the previous seasons as well, but it was stronger this time. Oh well. ‘It might really be old age creeping up on you. And soon it will be visible – one grey hair already!’ he thought miserably as he looked into the mirror and pulled a face. Then he put on his fresh shirt, closed the buttons, shoved the tails into his trousers, straightened his attire and tackled the tie.

“Good morning,” Camille’s voice came from behind. He turned around quickly. Lord, this woman had a habit of sneaking up on him – it was not funny any more. Just for how long had she been standing there already? The neutral expression on her face didn’t give him any hint. He hoped she hadn’t seen him shirtless – a very embarrassing thought! Not that he’d have to hide under a rock, but he didn’t think it would be appropriate - his female Detective Sergeant really shouldn’t see him like that.

With Fidel and Dwayne, it obviously was different – although he hadn’t been keen on asking them for help to get dressed during his first year on Saint Marie when he had been ill with a fever - but they were men, that was a completely different thing, wasn’t it! He had attended a single sex boarding school, after all, so while he had never liked the way they had been driven around like cattle, he had at least got used to not having much privacy when getting dressed and undressed around all the other boys. It had been unpleasant, and he had hated it, but he had learnt to deal with it, so when Dwayne and Fidel had seen him in his underpants, he hadn’t thought much of it.

“Good morning, Camille,” he replied. He hoped his voice didn’t betray his confusion. She had this unsettling effect on him… He’d rather not think about that too deeply. Oh well. He turned to the mirror again and busied himself with his tie.

“Got caught in the rain?” she asked. He nodded and said “Missed my timeslot and got all soggy. I was already halfway here when it started to come down. No point in returning home and sitting it out.” The knot of his tie was perfect now, and he pulled it straight with his right hand before he turned to her again and remarked “You had better luck, huh?”

She just nodded and watched him smoothing his hair before they both went to their respective desks to get started on their work. “Ha!” Richard exclaimed as he opened his e-mails. Camille looked at him inquiringly, her eyebrows arched, and he explained that the Commissioner had agreed with the renovation project and let them choose the painter and arrange all the details. “Invoices shall be sent to Jackie, his secretary. He has also told me the maximum amount that we can spend – according to him, things usually get more expensive than anticipated, but as long as we move within this certain budget, all is well.”

Before Camille could make a reply, Dwayne and Fidel entered the station, and the good news were announced to them as well. They were delighted, and the conversation quickly turned to details regarding everyone’s wishes and ideas, suggestions on how to coordinate everything and colourful daydreams of what things would look like later on and how much more convenient everything would be.

After a while, they all returned to their desks. There was a little general chit-chat about how they had spent the previous evening, Fidel came up with a little story about Rosie, and Dwayne complained about his bicycle continuously going flat. “Can’t find out where the problem is,” he explained. “I had thought I had found the puncture, but apparently there’s more than just one. Quite annoying. Might give it another shot, but I suspect that, eventually, I’ll have to change the inner tube. Trouble is, it’s an unusual size, and I may have to order it in the store – and wait for a while until it’s delivered.” He was clearly annoyed, but – in typical Dwayne manner - he just shrugged it off quickly and said “Ah, never mind. Ain’t the kind of weather for biking, anyway, I guess.”

Richard thought that in the Caribbean, it never was the kind of weather for biking, but obviously, it was all a matter of what you’re used to.

“So, how did you spend the evening yesterday, Chief?” Dwayne asked curiously. Richard looked up and said “Oh, I had dinner and then tried to get some air into my shack – I opened all the shutters, hoping that it would bring some fresh air inside, but no luck. It really didn’t help much. I wish I had a fan or something, but I fear the electrical system would break down if I tried that.”

Dwayne nodded. “Chief Hulme tried a fan once,” he revealed. “Didn’t work so well, especially as he had all the lights on and used the microwave at the same time. He was lucky that the place didn’t burn down. The fusebox went a bit – er - crazy. The wiring in your shack is a complete disaster.” Then, as an afterthought, he added “You might want to ask Eddie about that some time, Chief. He might be able to help you, and things would be so much more convenient for you.”

That sounded sensible, and indeed, it would be an option. If he stayed at the shack, he might as well get things a bit more comfortable... Richard mused that he finally knew now why the area around the fusebox looked so scorched!

“And you, Camille?” Fidel asked. Camille looked up. “Hmm? Oh, I spent the evening with Maman. Nothing spectacular. We cooked together and watched some TV. It was fairly quiet.”

‘Fortunately,’ she added in her mind. Her mother had been engrossed by the movie they had been watching, so she had been able to avoid the ever returning questions and musings about her future. She was so tired of it – it was really getting enervating.

The three men exchanged bewildered glances. It was unusual for Camille to be so quiet. Richard realised with some uneasiness that it was perhaps time to ask her a few questions. He hated to meddle with other people’s life, but besides all the other things she was to him, she was also his DS, and he had to take care of her. If there was anything bugging her, then he could perhaps help – and if not, then it would maybe do her good to just get things off her chest. Not that he was keen on hearing about personal issues, confessions and miseries, but it was part of the job, wasn’t it…

Oh well, he’d cross that bridge when he’d get there. No point in worrying – maybe the issue would solve itself.


	5. In a Waiting Position

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before the month comes to an end, here's a new chapter for you: A little more tension, a little more restlessness - and more hormones. Enjoy, and feedback is welcome.

The truth was that Camille felt she was stuck in a dead end. Of course, the restlessness and uneasiness that always came with the hurricane season was part of it. She knew that only too well – it had always been like that for her. The past two seasons – her first ones since her return to the Caribbean - had been fairly okay, but this time, she felt rather fidgety, nervous and generally ‘unbalanced’.

Actually, it shouldn’t have surprised her. During the first of those seasons she had still been busy trying to find her feet – her plans to work undercover hadn’t worked out. She had spent less than a year in that job over here. After her training in Paris, she had had a variety of jobs over there, but here in the Caribbean it hadn’t taken long, and her cover had been blown – Richard Poole had arrested her, and that had been it. She had borne a grudge against him for a while, but at the end of the day, she had had to accept that he had only been doing his job. It hadn’t been his fault, it had more been a chain of circumstances, and he had done what he had thought was right. She had been upset and worried about the future for a moment – until she had spoken to the Commissioner. It had been more than just a scrap of comfort that he had been in the position to offer her a job.

She had nearly fainted when she had realised what that job would be… but again, there hadn’t been any alternative, so she had had to adjust to this new situation. She had been so frustrated! Literally nothing had panned out the way she had envisioned it… But at least, she had been able to reconnect openly with people from her past and stay with Maman. Having a regular job without the constant risk of being discovered also was nice for a change – though not quite as interesting, thrilling and challenging as undercover work.

During the second hurricane season, she had been emotionally pre-occupied. Aimee Fredericks, her friend from school times, had been murdered a few months before, and that had shaken her up enormously. She hadn’t been that close to other friends – Aimee and she had shared a special bond. Losing her had been horrible. Worse than that. Devastating. And that notion didn’t even begin to do it justice.

And then there had been other emotionally challenging situations. She might have hated to work with Richard at first, but with time, that had changed. Their relationship had become friendlier as she had realised he wasn’t plain weird, and they had become closer. When they had been trapped in the weather station during the tropical storm last year, they had had a conversation that had been almost… well, ‘intimate’ was taking it too far, but ‘sincere’, ‘personal’ and ‘substantial’ – that were the notions she’d use to describe it now in hindsight. At least in comparison to their usual exchanges. Or had she been imagining things?

She had understood that despite all his awkwardness and obvious lack of social skills, she had developed deeper feelings for Richard than she had realised before. But neither of them had been ready to make a move – for different reasons. Camille had spent quite a few nights on wondering what it would have been like if he had made an attempt to come closer – upon closer reflection she had realised that most likely, she wouldn’t have said no if he had given it a try.

In all honesty, though – she knew that this idea was a highly unrealistic scenario. He wasn’t the kind of man who’d take advantage of a situation like that. She wasn’t even sure if he had ever taken it into consideration. He could have got into a hell of a mess if he had made a wrong move so she could have filed a complaint against him. He must have been scared to death – and that surely had overruled any other feelings he might have had.

And in any case… what would have come out of it? What could have come out of it? She knew that he – like herself - wasn’t the kind of person who’d want anything that could be classified as a ‘fling’ or ‘one night stand’, and for sure he wouldn’t want it with her – she was his colleague, actually his subordinate…

And if a fling was out of the question for both of them – what alternative was there, provided they ever admitted that they were attracted to one another?

Knowing him, she understood that – if he had spent a single thought on that topic at all – the fact that they worked together would have discouraged him completely. He was the type who always feared the sky would fall down on him, so he would have anticipated a whole lot of difficulties, and being insecure with women, anyway, he couldn’t gauge the possible consequences.

Not to mention that he might not even consider starting a serious relationship with anyone. For whatever reason, he seemed to have given up on love and rather avoided it, even if that meant he’d have to stay on his own.

She, however, had been overwhelmed by her usual dilemma – would he be worth the trouble? Would he understand her contradictions, her peculiarities, her occasional inconsistencies? Would he take the time to be patient with her randomness, her fears and her mood swings? And wasn’t it likely that he’d leave for the UK again? After all, she knew how much he loved London and how draining he found the climate here in the Caribbean… maybe he’d want to leave for good? What then? Not that she excluded anything – she might get fed up with the Caribbean eventually – even now she sometimes felt trapped here. But again – what if he wanted to leave before she was ready for a transfer?

And she knew he was a complex man, being with him certainly never was boring, but weren’t they too different in the end? She liked to try new things, he was unhappy with changes, she was flexible, he was adamant about a host of things, she loved to explore, he seemed to be scared of what might be behind the next tree… And they seemed to argue all the time, anyway.

She didn’t want another relationship to fail. She still was baffled when she thought of how she had felt when he had left for London to accompany Vicky Woodward… she had felt miserable, lost and forlorn. It had taken her a while to understand that this was because she had been afraid he’d leave for good. She hadn’t been sure whether or not he’d return… and that had triggered memories of her father leaving the family. She hated being left behind. She didn’t want that sort of pain. Then she rather wanted to be the one who’d finish off things… This was selfish, but it was her lifesaver.

But it hadn’t been the end, as she had half-expected. He had returned, as he had promised, and she had been incredibly happy. That had baffled her, too. After a little while she had understood that it was a trust thing. She had realised that she could trust him – he wouldn’t make promises that he didn’t intend to keep. Just the way he had initially had a hard time trusting Fidel, Dwayne and her – she knew it had been difficult for him to rely on them and understand that they wouldn’t let him down…

But well… nothing had happened between them. There had been fleeting moments when she had felt in sync with him, but she had never found out if he felt the same way. Every once in a while, he looked at her in a way that she couldn’t quite figure out. If he wanted more, then why on earth didn’t he give her a sign? She wouldn’t bite off his head. Not at all… quite the opposite.

In all fairness, though… he did have a hard time opening up and talking about personal things, so the idea of approaching her might scare him out of his wits. Provided he fancied her at all… She thought he found her attractive, but maybe that was only wishful thinking.

She couldn’t help but wonder if he had ever had a serious relationship in his entire life. Maybe he had… he certainly appreciated women, and very occasionally, he said something that made Camille think that he wasn’t entirely inexperienced. But then again… maybe he hadn’t, given his general awkwardness and the almost obsessive way of trying to melt with the masses and being invisible.

That was pretty hopeless here in the Caribbean, though – he stuck out like a sore thumb with his suit and Englishness. He just refused to loosen up in that respect. Maybe because it gave him a sense of security… Many people followed a certain ritual to feel safe, and his was apparently the dress code and the traditions and customs that he knew since childhood.

The only thing he really was confident about was work – he knew he was a brilliant detective. She suspected, however, that he hadn’t had much of a chance to shine in Croydon the way he did here – when Camille had met his ex-colleague just over a year ago, she had realised that Richard had been bullied badly over there. She never had given it much thought before.

When she had seen his former co-worker interact with him, she had been close to going up the walls. She had wanted to arrest him right there and then, only for his bad behaviour. Of course, that would have been out of line… Despite her own dislike towards Doug Anderson, she had had to stop Richard from making the mistake of setting his mind on him being the murderer of his wife – he had been convinced that it had to be him. Well, it had turned out that he had indeed been guilty – but in a different way than Richard had thought originally.

She had felt a strange mix of sympathy and respect for him when the case had been solved – he had not gloated; apparently, he just had been satisfied that it was done and over with and that he didn’t have to deal with Anderson any longer. Anderson had been a symbol for his past, as it seemed – he had become a bit more sociable and open after that case was closed.

Over all that time, she had humoured her mother by agreeing to the blind dates she had arranged for her, and none of the men had interested her one bit… They all had been nice enough for spending a relaxed evening, but none of them had been inspiring, they had responded to her flirtatious ways, but hadn’t made any attempts to find out what she liked and what interested her, they just had been interested in her pretty face and her well-shaped, athletic figure, her vivacity and her apparently ‘happy’ attitude. Basically, they had bored her, and by no means could she picture herself spending time with any of them for longer than an evening.

Some of the men had been really attractive – and a few had given her to understand that they wouldn’t mind spending the night with her – but Camille couldn’t bring herself to agreeing to any of these thinly veiled suggestions. For her, physical attraction was only one aspect. She was looking for more, though.

If she considered giving up on her freedom, she wanted more than flirting and general ‘getting along’, more than being considered pretty, more than being put in the ‘potential wife and mother’ compartment.

None of the men had taken the time to challenge her intelligence, none of them had had any interest in finding out what made her heart sing, what her thoughts on world events were or what kind of books she liked. It seemed like most men didn’t even think she would read. Admittedly, she read less now than in her twenties, but she still was interested in literature as well as in current affairs. She just didn’t talk about it often.

So, she was in a waiting position – partly because she felt that Richard should make a move, partly because she wasn’t sure what she wanted and was afraid of doing the wrong thing. She tried to think of scenarios that would force him to tell her how he felt about her – but again – did she want to know? And did he know at all what he felt for her? Talking about it could all result in a horrible mess.

Maybe it would be best if she tried to find closure and forget about him – but she couldn’t do that as long as she was part of his team, so she’d have to leave. She didn’t want to leave, however. No, absolutely not. But what did she want, after all? She knew she couldn’t eat her cake and keep it at the same time. She would have to make up her mind and decide if she’d stay or if she’d go.

One way or another, she needed clarity. The fact that she didn’t know where she was going and what she actually wanted was driving her nuts. Perhaps she could find out more if she confronted him about her making tentative plans to get a transfer? That would perhaps rattle him enough to understand that the situation was serious…

Camille shut off the engine of the Defender. Oh, she really wanted to have a quiet night. She hoped her mother wouldn’t pester her tonight – she really didn’t want any more discussions about the biological clock, reflections on the joy of having (grand)children (in Camille’s opinion the fact that grandparents and grandchildren usually got on so famously was mostly based on the fact that they had a mutual enemy… the members of the generation in between), or advice on how to attract and keep a man. ‘Coming from an expert on the topic,’ Camille thought with an unusual bout of venom.

Her wish was granted – as she unlocked the door to her place, she noticed that it was quiet at her mother’s flat next door. Usually, Catherine bustled to her entrance door when she was there and noticed that Camille was coming home. It turned out that her mother had left a note in Camille’s kitchen, letting her know that food was in the fridge. She had gone to see her friend Marie a few streets away. The note ended with “Have a nice evening, darling.”

‘Oh yes, I will,’ Camille thought. She was looking forward to curling up in her bed, listening to music and maybe reading a little. Or maybe she’d just go to sleep rightaway after dinner.

As she stepped into the shower, she thought it was actually a little unfair of her to be so upset with her mother. She knew that Catherine only wanted the best for her – but obviously they had different ideas of what was best, and right now, she was so confused that she was irritated with the least little thing. She should really try to relax and take things a little easier. Maybe everything would clear up more quickly than anticipated.

She grabbed the shampoo bottle and lathered her hair. As the foam covered her curls and the fruity scent of mango engulfed her, she suddenly remembered how she had come to the station this morning and found Richard changing shirts in the corridor behind the office…

When she had entered the office, she had seen his jacket, so she had known he had already arrived and gone looking for him. Not that he could be very far, anyway! She had intended to ask him something about the renovation plans that had come to her mind on the way to work… and she had wanted to have it out of the way. Later on, she had completely forgotten about it…

She had figured he might be in the corridor, and she had been right… She hadn’t been prepared to see him like that, though. He had been half-naked, his hair had been tousled as he had just tried to dry it with a towel. She had retreated a little so he couldn’t see her – he had been completely unaware of her presence. She had felt a bit voyeuristic as she had watched him grimacing at his reflection in the mirror, one hand in his hair, the other one putting the towel to the side and grabbing the fresh shirt. As he had put it on, she had marvelled at the way his hands had moved, the precision with which he had closed the buttons, the accurate movement when he had folded up the collar so he could place the tie around his neck…

That had been when she had made herself noticed. She certainly hadn’t wanted to be caught ogling him… she giggled at the notion as she rinsed out the shampoo and took the exquisitely scented mango soap out of its box. If she wanted to ogle, she’d have plenty of opportunities on the beach, with all the surfer boys showing off their immaculate bodies with muscles galore and washboard abs and whatever you might wish for.

Seriously, he was certainly not the first bare-chested man she had seen, and well, he was not the most spectacular one, either. But it wasn’t about flawlessness and perfection, anyway. While she could admire the surfer boys’ bodies for their perfection, she knew it wasn’t more than the admiration that you had for a perfect painting or sculpture. It had nothing to do with liking them as actual people. As it was, Camille often found men who put a lot of time and effort into sculpting their body rather uninspiring because they tended to talk only about themselves. She liked men who looked after themselves and were well-groomed, but if their appearance was what their world revolved around, then she found that rather off-putting.

No, seeing him this morning had been a totally different thing. This had been such an intimate situation, and he had moved so freely, so confidently, so ‘in accord’ with himself – that had been remarkable.

She had seen him before in his sleeping attire when she had come early to pick him up, and already then she had noticed that – while he wasn’t Superman – he wasn’t an ugly duckling, either. Granted, his pyjamas were hopelessly old-fashioned, but even those couldn’t hide that he was well-proportioned and attractive in his own way. Being of medium height, he could easily be overlooked. He wasn’t overly athletic, but not out of shape, either, and today, she had seen that the muscles on his arms were clearly defined, so apparently he didn’t only sit at home and read during his time off.

For a man of his age, he actually wasn’t in bad shape. Sure, he didn’t have a chiseled six-pack, but his stomach looked rather firm, flat and smooth, and his shoulders actually were broader than she had realised. This had somehow escaped her so far. She blamed the suits that he usually wore for that – they were correct and all, but not particularly fashionable, and they certainly didn’t bring out his best features.

She had also been fascinated by how fair his skin was. Of course, he covered himself, so he couldn’t possibly get tanned, even if he had been the type who’d tan at all (which he wasn’t), but still… And obviously, he didn’t follow the recent trend of getting rid of all body hair – one of her old school friends ran a beauty salon, and she had told Camille about all the men who came to have their chests and other body parts depilated so they’d fit into the trendy picture of the modern, neat, well-tended man.

Camille found that trend to be rather odd. Maybe her taste was old-fashioned or weird, but she didn’t think there was anything wrong with men having body hair – as long as someone wasn’t completely covered in it, of course… She wrinkled her nose when she remembered how she and Aimee had once seen a man on the beach with large tufts of dark hair on his chest and even on his back and shoulders – well, that had definitely been too much for her taste. But a nice little patch of chest hair – that was fine with her…

Her mind wandered back to how she had pointed out the little mistake Richard had made on his sketch the other day… His well-shaped hands had moved accurately - that had fascinated her, and looking at his fingers dealing with the ruler, the eraser and the pencil had made her wonder... what?

She didn’t really want to think about it, but those images in her head were persistent… now, flashbacks of how he had held her hands after Aimee had been killed came to her mind. She hadn’t paid much attention back then – the whole situation had been incredibly awkward, and her thoughts had been elsewhere – but she remembered how soft his hands had been (for a man).

She had generally noticed that he was always carefully manicured – he had shown her how his hand was healing from the psoriasis that he had developed for a while… that seemed to be completely gone in the meantime. She’d have to ask him about it some time. It had been stress-related, he had pointed out. Maybe he felt less stressed these days? Well, he just seemed glad that the itching was gone – he didn’t dwell much on it altogether, though.

It wasn’t that he was vain. He just looked after himself, and the corners of her mouth curled as she remembered how frequently he used the words ‘hygienic’ and ‘clean’. Maybe he was a little too obsessed with sand being unhygienic and street food not being clean, but he obviously liked things to be in order. And it was clear that he had some quirks that you could easily define as phobias – but she figured that everyone had their obsessions, and some just were easier to deal with than others.

For a moment she wondered what it would feel like if he laid his hands on her… not in a passing, casual way, as it could happen in an everyday situation… no, she was thinking of something completely different for a split second.

But no – that was out of line, and it wouldn’t happen, anyway. How bizarre to think of this now! Her imagination was clearly running away with her.

Camille shook her head as she realised where exactly her mind was wandering. She wrapped a big towel around her body, took the blowdryer out of the cupboard and switched it on. Why on earth had she started to think of Richard like that? Yes, she liked him, yes, she wouldn’t say no if he wanted more, but drooling over him like that? Good heavens. She’d have to try and distract herself. This really was outrageously off the mark. If she hadn’t known better, she would have said she was high on hormones! But she wasn’t a lovesick teenager, she was a grown woman, and she had to make decisions. This hurricane season really had an extreme effect on her…

Of course, she knew it wasn’t only the hurricane season. It was more than that.

But she didn’t want to think about the whole thing any more at this point, so she put on her comfy sweatpants and a large T-shirt and padded into the kitchen to get the food her mother had left in the fridge for her.


	6. Questions, Conflicts, and Insights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catherine enters the scene in this chapter, and you'll understand why Camille and she currently have a bit of a difficult time with one another...

The renovation project made good progress. Much to everybody’s satisfaction, Eddie had done a good job with the electrical wires, as far as they could judge at this point – they’d finally had a few more outlets, and the fusebox also would be more reliable. Of course, the station had become a construction site the moment Eddie had entered – as Richard had expected from previous experiences with electricians. He had yet to encounter an electrician who didn’t make a complete mess of a room as soon as he came onto the scene.

Eddie had brought along an adolescent assistant who was supposed to help him, but it had taken a concerted effort from Richard and Camille to set him straight and make him understand that his job was indeed not hanging around and trying to impress Camille with wisecracks, but that he should rather clean up after Eddie, sweep the floor when necessary and carry out the trash that came as a side effect of the works.

Richard had paved the way with a few well-timed scathing comments, and once these had sunk in, Camille had glared at the boy and said that she’d talk to his mother if he didn’t learn to behave in a lady’s presence.

That remark had done the trick.

It had also made Dwayne choke on his drink, and Fidel had had to turn away so nobody – particularly not Camille - could see him laugh. Richard hadn’t managed to stifle his smirk in time, so it still had been on his face when Camille had turned around to him. She had raised her eyebrows and asked haughtily “What?”

With some effort, he had got his face under control again and mumbled “Nothing, Camille, nothing,” – but he had felt safer hiding behind his computer screen right afterwards. “If looks could kill, I’d be lying on the floor” he thought morosely as he tapped away on his keyboard, keeping his eyes on the screen. Had it been the other way round and she had been the one being caught sniggering, she wouldn’t have ducked, he knew that. Whatever he did, it never was right – he just couldn’t win with her…

They had tried to move the desks closer together and put the filing cabinets into the small room next to the cells – but of course that room had been full to the brim with all sorts of rubbish – an old desk chair that was about to fall apart, old and tatty binders, defective staplers and other office supplies that clearly didn’t do their jobs any more, plus an ominous looking lampshade that reminded Richard of the tea cozy that the House Matron in his boarding school had used...

All the rubbish in the spare room was disturbing, but the lampshade was the worst. It had triggered vivid – and unpleasant - memories of dressing downs that he had received in the Matron’s office – usually for misdemeanour that he hadn’t committed in the first place, but that others had done and blamed him for. And he, the naïve little boy, hadn’t noticed how they had used him… No, that lampshade had to go. Like all the other things, too.

So, Fidel and Dwayne had loaded the Defender with the rubbish and brought it to the garbage dump. Camille had noticed his satisfaction and couldn’t help but smile. “Glad to see that go?” she had asked casually as they had watched the Rover rolling down the street. He had nodded and replied “Makes me wonder why we have kept all that rubbish. It should have got discarded long ago. It’s not good to hang on to stuff you don’t need for too long… especially if you’re not going to use it, anyway, because it’s broken or useless in whatever way. And that lampshade… I can’t even begin to imagine it’s been used in the station. Maybe as an illegal torture instrument? It’s surely bad enough to cause anybody nightmares…”

Much to Richard’s satisfaction, Camille had agreed whole-heartedly that it was a particularly hideous lampshade.

They had returned inside again and continued to put documents into the boxes that were sitting around all over the place. A good deal of the binders that had filled the office until recently had already been brought to the Government House where Fidel had labeled and shelved them neatly, so there wasn’t all that much left, but well… still enough to keep them busy for a while.

Richard now was grateful that the hurricane season made everything else slow down a little, including criminal energy. It would be nice to work in a fresh and bright office once the redecorating works were finished. The slightly run down appearance of the station had disturbed him for a while already.

Eventually, they all had moved the desks to the centre of the room, put the boxes with the documents in the spare room and made sure that their computers were still connected and they could work properly. There would be disturbances because of the work Eddie would be doing, but at least they could maintain a minimum service, and it would only be for a day. He’d plaster up the outlets and close the slits that he’d made for the extra wiring, but that shouldn’t be a big deal, so the painting could begin on the day afterwards.

Richard heaved a sigh of relief when Eddie and his assistant left after two days. He knew that the painting would bring more upheaval for a few days, but once it was done and they had moved the furniture into place again, they could take up their regular routines again. He was thoroughly fed up with all the fine dirt and waste, the tools and the general intrusion. He wasn’t very tolerant to that sort of thing. It was bad enough to fight off the sand in his home – he couldn’t stand having dirt and dust in the office on top of that. It had taken him a major effort to brush the dust off his dark suit in the evenings, and he was happy that he wouldn’t have to deal with more of that.

He had talked to the painter – they had chosen the one that Fidel’s father-in-law had recommended – and the team had communicated what they’d like him to do and what to pay attention to, so there was hope that things would pan out the way they were planned.

***********

It was Wednesday evening, and he locked up the station. Dwayne had taken Fidel home with the motorbike a short while ago, and Camille had already left, too. Richard looked up to the sky and hoped he’d manage to get home without getting completely drenched – the clouds didn’t look too promising. Whatever, he decided that it wasn’t quite as bad getting soaked on the way home as it was on the way to work, and so he marched off. The wind was quite bad, but from experience he knew that they were still far from what would be classified as storm.

He had not been to La Kaz for a while now. Catherine had reduced the opening hours during hurricane season – that meant that the bar only opened around lunch time and closed earlier in the evenings, except for weekends – then Catherine tried to maintain the usual opening hours – weather depending, of course. Usually, it was nice enough, but she had put up a sign announcing that the bar’s hours were subject to change.

On one hand, he missed sitting in the bar, having tea and listening to the team’s conversations – he wasn’t usually much of a participant in the chats, but every once in a while, he threw in a remark. It was a nice way to end a workday. On the other hand, he had noticed that Catherine had shot him weird sideways glances lately – and he hadn’t felt very comfortable with that, so it was perhaps a good thing to take a break from the bar for the moment.

He had no clue what he had done to annoy her. Unlike Camille, she was not so open about what had caused her displeasure… Of course, he had offended her chicken soup many moons ago, and the fact that he had made disparaging remarks about the French every once in a while certainly had upset her, too – but she and Camille had countered with remarks about the English, and so he saw that all more as a friendly sports competition, basically bantering, not as something to take seriously and worry about.

Catherine had thrown a surprise party when he had solved the Angelique Morel case – or rather, the case of her daughter’s disappearing years ago – and made roast beef, Yorkshire pudding and all the trimmings for him, and she had also been happy to celebrate and welcome him when he had returned from his trip to the UK a while ago – that trip had been necessary due to the outcome of the Malcolm Powell case… he had had to accompany Vicky Woodward, Powell’s secretary and murderer, to the UK. He suspected that this welcome party had been a joint venture between Catherine and Camille, and it had really been a nice event. He didn’t like being in the limelight, but this had been a get-together of a small circle of people that he knew and appreciated, so he had actually enjoyed it.

Since his return, Catherine had been consistently friendly, but over the past weeks, that had changed a little. She still was friendly, but it was cold-friendly, not warm-friendly. He had racked his brain if he had done anything that might have annoyed Camille – out of the ordinary… he was well aware of how he annoyed her on an everyday basis – that might have upset Catherine indirectly, but he had no clue.

Well, whatever. Fidel and Dwayne preferred to go home early these days, too, and the bar wasn’t open all evening, anyway, so there was no point in dwelling on the whole thing. Richard decided not to waste too much time on thinking about Catherine’s moods. It was difficult enough to deal with one Bordey woman at a time, he wasn’t keen on doubling the trouble.

Camille’s moodiness hadn’t lifted over the past few days. She was clearly out of balance for whatever reason. Richard sighed as he turned the key in the lock and entered his over-heated shack. If she kept being so imbalanced, he’d really have to sit down and talk to her. It was affecting her work already. She was getting inattentive, and today she had snapped at a man on the phone. This was so unlike her – well, he was used to getting snapped at, but she didn’t usually do that to people on the phone.

Once again, he wondered what was going on. Camille had always been temperamental, but her not so great phases had never lasted very long… so this was out of character and indicated that she was seriously beside herself. It was like she was waiting for something to happen – but what could that be?

Had she maybe met someone new and exciting? Had she fallen in love with someone and that someone was playing the waiting game with her? Richard felt sick for a moment. Of course, she was an attractive woman, beautiful and smart… she wouldn’t stay single forever. And she deserved to be happy.

He pulled a face at the thought of Camille running along the beach with another man – of course someone tall and handsome. Someone fearless and athletic.

Someone who was completely different from him… plain, boring, old Richard…

As soon as he realised which direction his thoughts were taking, he berated himself for being a fool. It was completely pointless to pine for Camille like that.

But then again… how he wished he could make up his mind and give her a sign that she was more to him than just a colleague (or a subordinate… as if Camille ever considered herself being a subordinate! And the truth was… he didn’t see her as a subordinate, either – she was his partner!).

But if he did that – not that he’d know how to do it - wouldn’t she just laugh at him? And what did he really want from her? He hadn’t figured it out himself yet – how could he say something and then expect her to understand his indecisiveness? After all, he didn’t really know what he wanted. He wanted something to change between them… but what and how? He had no clue. His life was pretty good the way it was – minus the heat and the sand, of course – why did he wish for a change at all?

As he plopped his briefcase in the wicker chair, the first raindrops fell. He looked up and sighed again. This tin roof was driving him batty. It stored the merciless heat and turned the shack into a sauna in the sunshine (which meant constantly, more or less), and when it rained, the sound of the drops assaulted him.

He put on the kettle and made tea – there wasn’t anything else he could do at the moment. Maybe, just maybe, the rain would be over soon, and he could open the shutters so some air would come inside. He was longing for a fan or a functioning a/c unit. He had asked Eddie to come round and have a look at the electricity – and they had set an ‘appointment’ for next week. Perhaps something could be done about the misery, after all.

******************

A few miles away, Camille was shouting at her mother… that rarely ever happened, but this time, she was more than just a little upset. Her mother had arranged another blind date for her, although she had expressly asked her to stop doing that, and Camille had refused to go – flat out.

“I’m not going, Maman, and you can’t make me go!” she shouted. Catherine got up from her chair, moved towards her daughter and said in a placating voice “But, Camille, I only want you to be happy. What’s wrong with trying to help you meeting nice men and finding someone special?”

Camille turned around to face her mother again and said stubbornly “Nothing, and I know you mean well. But I’m old enough to run my own life, and I’m not interested in meeting ‘nice men’ at this point. And just so you know… I’ve sent out an application for a job in Paris, and I’m not going on any blind dates at least until I know for sure what has come out of it. And even if it won’t work out… I don’t want any blind dates any more. Over and out.”

Catherine just stared at her for a moment, then she said incredulously “You want to leave Saint Marie? But, Camille, I thought you are happy here!”

“I am – most of the time. But I feel I could do more, and I – oh, Maman, I need space. I want to live my own life, and I want to do what I think is right.” She sounded almost desperate now.

“We have talked about this so many times – I can’t tell you how tired I am of all this. And I mean it. I want options – other than trying to find Mr Right – if he exists - and settling down with a family. I don’t know if that’s what I want. I need alternatives, and maybe I can find them elsewhere.”

Catherine’s eyes narrowed. “It’s this man, isn’t it?” she asked. “What man?” Camille asked back, her voice now aggressive.

“You know who I’m talking about. The Inspector. Your boss. Richard. You think I haven’t seen the way you look at him – and how he doesn’t notice you! You can’t have him, and so you don’t want anyone! And if he won’t look your way, you’d rather leave than stay around – I’m sure that’s behind all this!”

Camille rolled her eyes. “Maman, stop it! There’s nothing between him and me – at least nothing worth mentioning. Richard is my boss, as you said so pointedly, and we get on well. Better than we used to, but that’s it. And I’m not going to talk about it any longer.”

“Fine,” Catherine said. “Whatever you say. I just think this is not healthy, Camille. Richard is as cold as a fish. He has no deeper feelings for you. If he had, he would have done something about it already. He has had all the time in the world to make a move, and if you’re tired of me trying to find you a nice man, then I can tell you I’m equally tired of watching you pining for him.”

“I’m not pining for him. For heaven’s sake, Maman – I’m not even talking about him. I’m talking about getting a job in Paris. And just for the records, it’s Richard who has always encouraged me when it comes to my career – he has let me go away to take courses, even when it was inconvenient and he had to change the schedule for everyone. He knows I’m a good copper. And it’s not him who’s watching my every move and talking about me behind my back, wondering what’s wrong with me and feeling sorry for me because I’m still single. If you’re looking for a scapegoat, then don’t look his way – there’s nothing wrong with him,” she retorted.

Catherine raised her eyebrows. “You should hear how you’re defending him… Not so long ago, you used to rant about him.”

“Maman, this conversation is over,” Camille said stiffly, struggling for self-control. It was bad enough that she was in doubt about what to do, that she wasn’t entirely sure about her feelings for Richard, that she didn’t know what – if anything beyond mild affection for a colleague – he felt for her. She didn’t want to discuss this with anybody, let alone her mother. It would have been different if Aimee had still been around – she could have confided in her. But the way things were, this was not going to happen, and so she had to figure this out on her own. Catherine’s way of putting her finger right into the open wound was not what she needed right now. Her mother was shrewd, and that was helpful in a lot of situations, but not in this one. Camille was not ready to talk about all this!

The current scenario was definitely one of the less great sides of living so close to her mother. And she knew precisely that Catherine would discuss her daughter’s disobedience and lack of gratitude with at least one of her friends… under the oath of secrecy, of course, and then the island grapevine would be busy hashing and re-hashing her love life – or lack thereof – once again. She was sure that the evening at Marie’s had made her mother take action… oh, sometimes she was so sick of all this!

She turned around on her heel to leave her mother’s kitchen. As she was opening the door, she said over her shoulder “And you might as well inform the ‘nice man’ that you picked this time that I’m not coming. I don’t care how you do it. You arranged the date without my knowledge, you tell him I’m busy. And don’t even dream of just ‘postponing’ it. I’m not interested, and I won’t go to save your face. I’ve had enough.” She was clearly incensed.

It was the first time that Camille had spoken like this. She was hot-headed, and she could be short-tempered, but she had never talked to her mother like that. She was tired of being pushed around. Everybody and everything just seemed to do their best to confuse and annoy her. There was Catherine, trying to force her in a certain direction, there was work where she had to function, and there was Richard who didn’t make a move, yet held her captive. It wasn’t his fault that she felt this way, but she couldn’t take it any more.

She was tired of having no control. She wanted her life back. She wanted to know where she was going. That was everything she knew at this point.

A brief glance at her phone showed her that it was not too late yet, and it had cleared up again… the rain was gone. The sun had already set, but well, never mind – she’d just take along her flashlight.

Technically, she wasn’t supposed to use the Rover as a ‘private vehicle’, but that was grey theory. Obviously, whoever had the Rover in front of their house used it for private purposes, and the Commissioner knew that. There was no point in pretending otherwise.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t go for a run at this time any more – it was too dark, and with the heavy rain that had pelted down until recently you couldn’t be sure that the trails were safe. A run would have helped to calm her down, but well… no way she could do that now. A walk on the beach wasn’t an option at this point, either.

So, she went for the next best thing. She got into the car and started the engine. There was enough petrol in the fuel tank – well, enough for her purposes, anyway. She checked if she had a water bottle and the flashlight with her, and then she set off.

Where she’d go, she didn’t know – she just needed to get away. From this house, from her mother, from the thoughts, doubts and feelings that annoyed her.


	7. Confessions

It was nearly 8 p.m. The rain was over, and Richard went outside to sit on the veranda – in the dark, so the bugs would not be attracted. He had put on insect repellent, but they loved him, anyway. He had opened all the shutters a few minutes ago, and there was a bit of a draft in the shack, but it still was oppressively stuffy inside. He had lost count of how often he had sighed today… and just sighed once more as he took the citronella candle and set it on the table.

In the corner of his eye, he noticed a movement and looked up. He squinted and saw a figure huddled on the keel of the Roast Beef - his little boat that had been sitting on the beach recently, turned upside down, so the rain and wind wouldn’t take it away. The person looked straight to the horizon – well, what was left of it. You couldn’t see much in the twilight.

He knew instantly that it had to be Camille, though. It was her slim figure, and he knew the way she shoved her hand into her hair when she was frustrated – that was just so typical of her. He grabbed the flashlight he had taken out and put on the veranda table. Maybe this was the moment for finding out what was bugging her. Not that he really wanted to know – he told himself that she had a right to privacy, and her life was none of his business – but the point was that her work was suffering, and he had to offer her to confide in him if anything was the matter that he could help her with. He knew she wouldn’t think he was sticking his nose in her business. They had known each other for long enough now…

He hadn’t been looking forward to taking her to one side at work – too many possible interruptions – this was a much better opportunity to talk to her. He still wasn’t excited about the prospect of a conversation that might end up being somewhat private - but well… maybe he worried for nothing.

And actually, she seemed to want to talk – otherwise she wouldn’t have come to his beach.

For a moment, he thanked fate, destiny or whatever it had been that had looked down on him tonight that he hadn’t changed into his pyjamas when he had come home, but put on the chinos instead. He had rolled up his sleeves and taken off his tie, but although he was not formally dressed, he looked at least passable.

Camille saw him coming up to her. “Hi,” he said. She nodded, acknowledging his greeting.

“Have you come to look at the ocean, or to visit me?” he asked, half jokingly. She smiled. “Both, I guess,” she replied.

“Ah.” Then: “Oh, sorry. Can I offer you something to drink?”

She held up her water bottle and said “No, thank you. I have all I need.”

“Mind if I sit with you?” Camille shook her head and said “Not at all.” Richard took out a handkerchief, unfolded it and neatly placed it on the boat before he sat down on it. No way would he sit on the sandy keel and ruin his trousers… Camille couldn’t help but chuckle – he would never change… at least not in this respect.

For a while, they sat in silence. Camille had driven all around the island – or so it seemed to her. Well, it was a small island, anyway. She had ended up here, of all places. She wasn’t quite sure if she had done the right thing by coming here… She always went to the beach when she needed to think, but well, perhaps it hadn’t been such a brilliant idea to sit down on the beach where Richard lived. After all, he was part of the problem.

She had been here for almost 20 minutes already. She hadn’t managed to bring herself to knocking on his door. The shutters had all been closed, and she hadn’t wanted to intrude and invade his privacy. She knew that he needed downtime, and she had learnt to respect that. After all, she needed time out as well – she just found it in a different way. She had visited him before in the evenings sometimes, but somehow, that had been different.

One thing was that often the boys had come along, so they had been together as a team. Another aspect was that they usually had had cases to discuss, so there always had been a valid excuse to show up – and slide from work talk into more relaxed conversations. This time, things were so slow at the station that she couldn’t use this pretext. The only smokescreen she could come up with was the renovation project, but that sounded a bit… unlikely and far-fetched. He would see right through that.

So, it was good that he had finally come out and noticed her. She had had enough time to make up her mind. She was going to mention the application for the job in Paris and test the waters – depending on his reaction she’d go in one direction or the other.

Now she only had to find a way to start the conversation… but luckily, he spoke first. “Has it cooled down a little, or – er - am I imagining that? It seems to me that the air is a little fresher than it was this morning.”

Oh, the English and the weather… Camille almost laughed out loud. This – again - was so typical. But it gave her the necessary cue that the arena was open now, and they could begin to talk.

She cleared her throat and said “I think you may be right. It feels a little cooler. But the forecast has warned that a tropical storm is on its way and might hit on Friday or Saturday. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” He paused, then continued “It’s obviously none of my business, but what made you come here? I thought you’d enjoy a quiet evening at home with your mother?”

Camille huffed. That was a topic she didn’t care to discuss. But wait, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all to give him an idea of the nightmare she was in. She wouldn’t necessarily have to tell him about the details of the argument that had made her stomp off in anger, but he might as well get a little insight into her mother’s plans and schemes.

So, she said drily “Oh, our so-called quality time hasn’t been so great lately, so I had to get away from the family idyll tonight.”

“Did you? Mother-daughter-dynamics, I reckon?”

“Hmmm. Not sure if I want to call it that way. Whatever. I guess the problem is that Maman just won’t give up on pestering me with trying to set me up with what she thinks are ‘eligible’ men.”

He snorted. “She’s persistent, huh? I assume you have told her that you’re not interested? Or are you interested and just don’t like the way it’s arranged?” He sounded aloof, but Camille thought she could notice a spark of curiosity in his voice.

She sighed. “I’m not interested. No, really. I’m not. At least not… well, at least not in this particular, purposeful way that’s all pointing towards the one ultimate goal – settling down and – oh, all that. The point is…” She paused. Then she figured she might as well tell him and went on “The point is that I don’t know if I want to settle down with a husband and a family yet. You know, all the years of training… and then I’d ‘waste’ all that on becoming a wife and a mother, if things panned out according to Maman’s wishes. And don’t get me wrong, I’m just saying ‘waste’ because I don’t know how to express myself… I mean… I know that no experience ever is wasted in life. What I mean is that I’d give up on my career and the work I love so much…”

“And you don’t want that?” he asked.

“Oh, I don’t know…. It just seems so wrong, you know.”

“Well, you wouldn’t have to get married rightaway and – er - pop out babies instantly, I suppose? You could still work and decide on what you want then, provided you have found someone you like enough to – er – go out with steadily, or whatever you call it nowadays.”

“Yes, I think so, too. But it seems that all the men that Maman finds for me are keen on dating for a few months at best, getting engaged and being married within half a year and then want children more or less immediately.”

“And that’s too fast for you? Sorry, Camille – this might sound like a stupid thing to say, but from what I have heard, it’s usually the other way round – you know… a lot of women seem to – um - complain that the men they meet don’t want to settle down and have a family with them, and they say these men only are time-wasters. Not that I’m an expert on these things, of course.”

It took her a while to answer, and her response startled him because it reflected what he had sometimes been wondering, too.

Looking out on the ocean, she said pensively “The thing is… how are you supposed to know that you want to spend your life with someone when you only know him from a couple of dates? I mean, obviously we all try to make the best impression when we go on a date, and the real person behind all those dating rituals remains in the shadow. I don’t believe in all that ‘you just know when you meet the right person’ kind of thing – I’ve seen it go wrong just way too often, you know… Doesn’t it take time to get to know someone? Don’t you want to be… well, if not entirely sure – because there never are guarantees in life – then at least… fairly optimistic that you can work things out together? Mutual attraction is important, but not the only thing that counts… you want things to last, don’t you?”

Camille wrinkled her nose as she turned to face him and continued. “You see… I’m trained in psychology, and I have worked undercover, so I have experience in reading people to a certain extent, and I’m not totally clueless. As it is, you can see a tendency, and you can get a gist of what someone is like… but how real is that? There are no guarantees, as I already said. And I can’t help it – the ones I’ve met usually focus on my outer appearance. I don’t want to sound arrogant, but it annoys me. I mean… I’m more than that. When I tell them I work for the police, they just say something like ‘oh, so you know how to use handcuffs’ and give me a dirty look. Don’t be shocked, that has happened to me more than once!”

“I’m not shocked. I was simply pondering that nobody gives me dirty looks when I say that I work for the police,” he said drily. “I usually get a polite and disinterested ‘oh, really?’ - But then, of course, I’m obviously not you, and in all honesty, I’d rather not be part of those handcuff fantasies.”

She could hear from his voice that he was smiling now.

Camille laughed. “Me neither,” she said. “The truth is, all these men bore me to tears. They are nice enough, but they live on a different planet… I wouldn’t know what to do with them in the long run. I can’t help it, I don’t see myself as the homebody, yet impeccable hostess, the perfect wife, bringing the slippers when the husband comes home, food on the table, cake in the oven… you know what I mean. It’s all good and well for the women who want it that way, and I don’t look down on anyone who wishes to live like that. But I can’t see myself doing it.”

“Leading the life of a Stepford wife? No, you’re right. I don’t think you’d fit into that picture.” He chuckled at the thought of Camille in a pinny, serving apple pie to a self-important husband who’d come home from his job, thinking he was the one who did all the work while his wife juggled the household chores and made his life comfortable and easy.

Many people lived like that, but he didn’t think that Camille would fancy that. Neither did he, for that matter. His parents and their entire generation lived like that, and there certainly was nothing wrong with it, but he couldn’t quite imagine this for himself. He was far too independent and had learnt how to do chores by himself – so for him, the only reason for getting involved with someone was an emotional bond, based on mutual respect, trust, affection and understanding. Mutual physical attraction certainly was a vital factor, too – but if the other factors didn’t apply, he wouldn’t even consider letting anybody into his life and giving up on his independence. Which was perhaps the main reason why he still was on his own, come to think of it… It just had never happened in his life that all these factors had coincided.

The keyword was ‘mutual’, actually. The women who had fancied him hadn’t been his cup of tea, and vice versa. Sometimes he thought he was a lost case, and he had more or less accepted by now that he would stay single for the rest of his life. Not that this was what he wanted, but well… you couldn’t force these things, could you!

He realised that he had been silent for a while and that she was perhaps waiting for him to continue, so he asked in a seemingly light-hearted tone “But wouldn’t the lucky man you’d agree to marry know that? And want you because you’re… yourself? Isn’t that what it is about?”

She smiled a little wistfully. “I’d hope that… but it doesn’t seem to be what any of the men I’ve met so far wanted. In general, it seems that they are looking out for a trophy, and you wouldn’t believe how many of them said on the first date that their wife wouldn’t ‘have to’ work. As if that increases their ‘market value’ in my book… No question if a woman would perhaps want to work because she enjoys her job and is good at it. And you know, they all are so formulaic – it’s like we’re doing a paint-by-number kind of thing: go on a couple of dates, pop the question – accept, respectively - then get married, buy a house, have a kid, … As if there were rules about it when you have to do what. Like rituals that you follow. There’s no sense of individualism, no trying to get to know the person behind the image…”

She took a sip from her water bottle and continued “That drives me bonkers, you know. And then…” She hesitated. Oh, what the heck, she might as well go deeper into it. She had already said so much.

“Then… it’s not only that. Maman seems to expect that I want children. Automatically. As if that was every woman’s wish.”

“And you don’t?” His voice sounded a little… what? Disappointed? Curious? Bewildered? She wasn’t sure. Darn. She wished she could see his face.

“I thought you like children? Wasn’t it you who was all excited when Rosie was born and said it was about time that I’d hold a baby?”

“Yes, that’s right,” she admitted. She remembered how he had held Rosie... The expression on his face had been priceless – a mix of horror and awe. And then Rosie had sicked up on him… That had been funny. She smirked at the memory. But before that had happened, she had noticed that the look on his face had almost been reverent for a moment, and her heart had been going out to him. He had been ‘human’ for a split second…

She went on “I love children, and I’m sure it’s wonderful to have them, and adventurous, and all that… but I’m not sure if I’m ready for the responsibility. It sounds so immature, I know, so silly… but… you know, it’s so hard to raise children. I’d like to believe that it all falls into place once you’re there… and then… Oh well. I think the point is that you have to be ready for it, and I’m not there – yet. And I’m not sure I ever will. I just don’t know.”

“Hmmm.” Then – much to her surprise – he said “I don’t think it’s immature, and I don’t think it’s silly, either. I agree with you, it’s a huge responsibility, and I take my hat off to those who take it on happily and without hesitating. There’s a whole lot of things you can mess up with… you know, although all parents want the best for their children, they all fall into traps and make mistakes. An awful lot of things can go wrong. Scary, isn’t it?”

He paused, then went on, staring out to the horizon the way she had just done a few minutes before, “And you never know if what you think is best for your child really will make the child… um… happy.”

Silence again.

He thought of all the years at boarding school. His parents had meant well, but he hadn’t enjoyed the time there all that much (that was an understatement, obviously…). He had learnt how to survive, but that had implied hiding a big part of his personality, including his vulnerable and sensitive side. He had become so good at hiding that part that he hardly managed to find it himself under all the layers of behaviour patterns he had adopted over the years. It had been a long time since he had spoken freely about emotions…

As a child he had sometimes poured out his heart to his mother – very rarely, though…. Usually, his mother had been sad afterwards, and he had felt guilty. And after that, he had learnt quickly that showing emotions wasn’t a good idea because you were vulnerable and others used their knowledge to hurt you.

Indeed, as unlikely as it seemed - the first person with whom he had spoken about anything remotely personal in his adult life had been Camille… that had been after Aimee’s death, then after his former colleague Anderson had showed up, and again during the night of the hurricane last year. Strange that he would trust her – one might think that she stood for everything he had learnt to avoid, still he knew that she would not betray him. Somehow he sensed that he was safe with her. She had never gossiped about the really important stuff.

Camille wondered what he might be thinking of when he took up the thread again and said “And what if the person you have children with turns away from you for whatever reason, and you end up having to raise the child by yourself… or you’d be a part time parent? That’s a bloody awful thing to happen. Mind you… I know that nobody plans it that way, yet it happens so often nowadays. And it’s hard for everyone involved – for the children as well as for the parents… Not that this whole topic – er – ever has been an issue for me, but you kind of think about it when you see people with their kids, don’t you…”

Oh. That sounded very much like the thoughts and doubts she had been harbouring all that time. Interesting. She was surprised that he gave her such an insight into his thoughts. Maybe it had to do with the fact that they were sitting almost in darkness. Darkness did the strangest things… she knew that already. Well, if it made him open up more, then it was fine with her.

She looked at his profile in the half shadow. Since he wasn’t looking at her, she could observe him for a moment. She could see that he his eyebrows were raised, but he was silent, as if he was lost in thought. During their conversation he had pushed his hand into his hair so it had got somewhat ruffled, and together with his not-entirely-classical nose, the distinctive jawline, the rolled-up sleeves and the open collar this gave him an almost boyish, more casual look.

He looked a little vulnerable this way… and so much younger than he did in the office - in his suits, with his hair plastered to his forehead, frowning and pressing his lips together. She swallowed hard. It struck her how attractive she found him when he looked so informal.

He obviously had no clue about the effect he had on her. Quickly, she looked away and took a swig of water. She was embarrassed for a moment.

He turned to her again and asked softly “So, you and your mother haven’t been on good terms lately?”

She sighed. “I think the hurricane season gives her too much time to think about things that she’s not happy with. I know she longs for grandchildren… I swear if I hear the notion ‘biological clock’ once more… or hear her saying ‘tick tock’… I’ll scream and run away. Actually…” - she suddenly grinned - “that is what I did tonight.”

He looked at her inquiringly. Camille figured that it was time to go ahead now and test the waters.

“And also, I’ve been thinking…” she said. “Oh?” His voice sounded slightly amused. “Last time you had been thinking you came up with the renovation project. What is it this time?”

She took a deep breath and said “I’ve been thinking that I might need a change of scenery. I have applied for a job in Paris.”

She let that sink in. Her heart was beating unusually fast, and she was waiting breathlessly for his reaction.

He tried to process what he had just heard. “I didn’t know you were that unhappy with your job,” he finally said. His voice sounded controlled, but she felt that he was trying to cover up his confusion. Or was it more than that?

“I’m not unhappy with my job. No, not at all. Not any more now that we… Well, I just think – oh, I don’t know. I think that… perhaps I’m a little stalled. And nobody is irreplacable. You see, Fidel is fantastic and so devoted to the job, and he’d pass the exams for the necessary promotion with flying colours, or they could transfer another DS to work with you…”

“If you’re not unhappy with your job – what is it then? Don’t you… I thought that we’re a good team, after all.” He sounded genuinely sad now. She was a little taken aback – for his standards, this was definitely a rather open display of emotions.

Shouldn’t he be the first person to understand her? He had wanted to get away from the island for a while, too… Then again, she recalled how sad she had been when she thought he might not return from his visit in London a few months ago… So, in a way, they were even now in that respect…

She quickly responded “We are. Really. More than that. I just think that… maybe I made myself a little too comfortable here. You know, every once in a while you have to try something new, another challenge, another direction…” she tried to explain herself.

Good grief, she wished he’d say something. Anything. She didn’t really want to leave. But she would have to if he didn’t say… what? “Stay with me” – was that what she wanted to hear? Well, he wouldn’t say that, anyway…

She waited. Then, much to her surprise, he suddenly took her hand and held it in his for a moment. “You know, Camille… If you want to go because you feel stalled and want something new and exciting, then that’s understandable. But if you want to run away from something… then I can tell you from experience that it doesn’t work. Whatever it is, it will follow you around until you finally stop and face it.”


	8. Confusion

When Richard returned inside, he was still rattled. Camille had totally taken him by surprise with her confession that she was considering leaving Saint Marie. If she left – what would he do?

Suddenly overwhelmed by the truth and unable to ignore his emotions any longer, he had realised that he didn’t want her to leave him, neither tonight, nor at any other time. It had hit him that his earlier ponderings had all been idle claptrap – he hadn’t really believed she’d leave him – for another man, for another job, for whatever.

The fact that he had lost control, forgotten himself and spontaneously taken her hand for a moment was indicative for the confusion and fright he suddenly had felt.

He was usually so peculiar about physical contact – and the fact that he hadn’t been able to control himself in this instance just proved how beside himself he was. It had just overcome him - he had wanted to hold her fast so she couldn’t go away. It had felt good, but also terrifying and unsettling at the same time. He hoped he hadn’t betrayed his feelings to her – he didn’t really want her to know what he felt, and he didn’t want to embarrass her, either.

In any case, she had returned the squeeze of his hand, then she had got up, brushed the sand off her trousers and said “Thank you. It’s been good to talk to you - that has helped me a lot, Richard. Of course, I will let you know what comes out of it all.” After that, she had said goodbye and left. Before she had got into the car, she had turned around once again to look at him – or so it had seemed. He couldn’t see her well enough as it already was rather dark, but he had seen her silhouette…

For several minutes he had stood there, thunderstruck and trying to get his head around what had happened - and what he had just realised.

He had sat on his veranda then, finally lighting the citronella candle, and got lost in his thoughts. Or rather, in a mix of feelings and fragments of thoughts. Finally, he had got up and sighed – once again, he didn’t know what to do. But maybe the next few days would bring him some clarity.

He knew that if she seriously asked for a transfer, he would have to give his okay. Really, he owed it to her – he couldn’t stand in her way if she absolutely wanted to leave the island and start over somewhere else. She was an excellent officer, and she deserved to move up the ladder and do exciting things. If that was what she wanted, then he couldn’t do anything but support her.

Not that he wanted her to leave, but well… how could he ask her to stay? He had nothing to offer… neither in the professional field – there were no open positions that she could get promoted to here on the island – nor on a personal level. He wished he had…

It had been a long, long time since he had felt so strongly about a woman, and the not-so-great experiences he had gone through in the past had made him shy away from the whole ‘relationship thing’. He had no idea how a relationship could work out for him at all – the very thought of it scared him out of his wits. And surely Camille would only laugh if she knew that he had fallen for her like that.

No, he couldn’t offer her anything that would be good or interesting enough to make her reconsider…

So, that had been the issue that had been bugging her. On one hand, he now thought that he really wouldn’t have wanted to know… but on the other hand, he was pleased that she had trusted him enough to tell him. Maybe – if he just thought about it hard enough - he could do something to make her change her mind.

But what? He could only tell her that his life would become boring and dull if she went away. But that revelation would hardly make her reconsider, and the mere thought of confessing to her that he didn’t want her to go – or to be more precise… that he wanted her to be by his side, not only at work, but actually in all other fields of his life, too - frightened him.

However… He wasn’t quite sure that her wish to get away from Saint Marie was purely out of the desire to spread her wings and fly into another direction. It seemed more like she was running away from something. The vagueness with which she had spoken about her motives had made him suspicious.

Clearly, the pressure she got from Catherine took its toll. Her mother’s efforts to marry her off made him somewhat angry. As if Camille was left on the shelf already… she was mature enough to know what she wanted (and what she didn’t want!), yet still young and undeniably beautiful, and she had all the chances in the world!

She certainly wasn’t the doll with the wonky eye and the broken arm – he smiled as he remembered their quarrel on the morning prior to the Erzulie festival. That had happened over one and a half year ago. Would they still misunderstand each other like that nowadays? He wasn’t sure… Things had changed between them, but they still bickered. It had irritated him for a long time, but it had turned into some sort of ritual, and now he almost enjoyed it. Not always – but often, it really was fun.

This year, he had spent the night of the Erzulie festival on his veranda. He hadn’t wanted to go into town and encounter all the happy people – and maybe see Camille with another man. That had been his main reason, no matter how much he had tried to convince himself that it was the loud music that put him off.

He also remembered how Camille had kept asking him which ‘type’ of woman he preferred and how she had mentioned that her mother would find him someone as soon as she knew what ‘type’ he preferred. Why would she bother? And funny enough, Catherine didn’t seem to have a clue about what ‘type’ of man her daughter preferred – she hadn’t had any success in matching up Camille with anyone.

Maybe, Camille didn’t have a specific ‘type’ – or she had one and hadn’t told her mother about it. And well, perhaps she was beginning to feel like a failure because nobody she met could hold her fascination. Richard knew only too well what it was like to ask oneself if the fault was in ‘the others’ or in one’s own personality and self. It was interesting that she felt the dating scene was somewhat boring and stereotypical. He wouldn’t have guessed that. She seemed to be so open to everything, so adventurous… It was hard to imagine that she wouldn’t enjoy going out with different people. He was sure that she knew the dating codex by heart – and played the game virtuously.

He remembered the few occasions when he had been out with women – back in his university days. He had never seemed to know what they expected from him. It had been like they’d been using a code he couldn’t understand – technically, they had been speaking the same language that he spoke, yet he couldn’t figure out the underlying meaning of their words and actions. He had understood they expected certain responses to certain actions from their side, but he had never been sure if he had hit or missed it. Usually, he had missed it… And of course, it hadn’t helped that he clammed up when the conversation turned to the topic of ‘feelings’. He didn’t talk about his feelings. Ever. His feelings were private and nobody else’s business.

He knew that self help books about dating – not that he read them… but he had seen them in bookstores, and it was hard not to notice their slogans on the covers – said you should be honest about your wishes and plans for the future – but what if you just weren’t sure? What if you were honest about this, and your counterpart got put off because you were openly saying that you didn’t know if you wanted a family or not? Didn’t it all depend on how a relationship developed? Relationships required compromises, there wasn’t anything like a ‘one size fits all’ solution.

Still, he wasn’t sure that the feeling of being stalled or the way she had been forced into the dating scene here on Saint Marie were the only reasons why Camille wanted to move on. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but she seemed to be unnerved by more than that. What that could be, however, he didn’t know.

Well, all he could do at the moment was wait and see. He might have a brainwave… you could never know. He’d have to try and look at it as a puzzle, maybe that would do the trick?

He took his empty mug and put it in the sink. For now, he’d go to bed. Hopefully, he’d find some sleep. Tomorrow was another day, and perhaps it would bring him some enlightenment.

*************

Camille was in bed, hugging her extra pillow and trying to think straight. The lamp on her nightstand cast a dim light on her face. She had driven home and sneaked into the house. She had heard music coming from her mother’s flat – Edith Piaf, singing French chansons. She knew that Catherine always listened to these songs when she was upset or sad.

It pained her to know that she was the reason for her mother’s disposition, but she knew that she had had to put her foot down – she loathed these blind dates – although some of the men she had got to know really had been nice to chat with… but none of them had interested her beyond that - and she had told her mother she wasn’t ready for more, and yet she had arranged another one… she had walked right over her, and Camille couldn’t tolerate that any longer. She wasn’t a little girl any more.

She had been annoyed with her mother’s remarks about her pining for Richard. She wasn’t pining for him. She just… well, she liked him. And yes, if she was really honest with herself… she felt more for him than just that. She wanted more than just his friendship. She admitted that to herself – barely. But she wouldn’t tell her mother. It was none of her business. Actually, it was nobody’s business – just her own. And Richard’s – if he wanted it that way. She had no idea about his feelings at all, so what could she do?

Since he didn’t seem ready to make a move or was completely oblivious of her feelings (both possibilities were realistic), she could either suck it up and live with it, or she could go and leave it all behind. Maybe there even was another option she hadn’t figured out yet. Whatever. But she was too old to come running to her mother because of some disappointment in the love department. She had done that as a teenager, but she was a grown woman now. Ever since she had moved to France, she had done her own thing – and while she had told her mother about her relationships and her break-ups as they had happened, she had never asked her for advice on these things any more. It was only since she had come back to Saint Marie a few years ago that her mother had taken her on as her main ‘object’ for matchmaking.

So far, so good. Well, tonight had been… interesting. That conversation with Richard had been the strangest thing ever. She was still a little perplexed about how he had agreed with her thoughts on dating, marriage and having a family. She couldn’t remember she had ever had such a down-to-earth conversation with a man about this particular topic. And really, he had been the last man in the world whom she had expected she could talk to about these things… He was usually so uptight about personal things… but perhaps he hadn’t considered this as ‘personal’ in the original sense of the meaning, but more as a general observation?

She had once asked Juliet how she had known that Fidel was the man that she had wanted to marry and spend her life with – and she had just smiled and said that there hadn’t been anyone she could have loved more, and he was perfect for her. His quirks and peculiarities made him all the more endearing, and she knew that while she could live without him, she didn’t want to.

That had sounded a little simple-minded and naïve to Camille, but she had to admit that Juliet had a point – particularly the last part of her statement rang true. Camille had had a few relationships in the past – though not since she had returned to Saint Marie – and she never had had the feeling that she could live without someone particular, but didn’t want to. It had always been more of a ‘I could live without that person, and I will eventually’. Nothing had felt permanent, and the thing was… she hadn’t wanted anything to be permanent and ‘happily ever after’, if she was honest. Her thoughts went back to that conversation… Juliet had continued to sing Fidel’s praises until Camille jokingly had told her to stop, or she’d run and try to have Fidel for herself.

She had also asked Dwayne once why he had remained single, and he had just laughed, raised his eyebrows and asked back “Are you joking? Could you imagine me as a dutiful husband? Nah, Camille – I love my freedom. ‘Husband’ is clearly another version of ‘housebound’ – doesn’t appeal to me, you know. I don’t want to be tied down, and my life is good the way it is!” With a twinkle in his eye, he had added “Why stick to one woman when there are so many out there?”, and Camille couldn’t help but giggle. That was Dwayne – at least he didn’t pretend to be someone he wasn’t.

It had seemed useless to ask Fidel, her mother or other people she knew. Fidel would only go on about Juliet and praise her to the moon and back, her own mother obviously hadn’t been very successful in the relationship department, and other people… well, where was the point!

Yes, she had had relationships, but the conversations between herself and her respective partner hadn’t been about topics like that. Perhaps they had been too young? Too immature? Too wrapped up in themselves? Or perhaps they just hadn’t made the effort to communicate properly.

In jest, she had said to Richard once that he should try love… but that had been more an attempt to flirt with him than anything else. Good grief, he had been so starchy, it hadn’t been funny any more… and she had made that remark, partly as a provocation, partly because she thought he really would benefit from having someone who’d care for him.

Now she thought that maybe that had been cruel. She remembered how he had looked at her – there had been an almost wounded look in his eyes. Perhaps he was too scared to try love because it brought responsibilities that he couldn’t fathom and commitments he wasn’t ready to make, and of course… there always was a risk. Or he had been trying because… yes, because he had longed for love, and it hadn’t worked out for him as he hadn’t found anybody who had wanted to share it with him. Or he had been disappointed by the person he had fallen in love with? Perhaps that was why he appeared so cold sometimes? Because he was afraid of getting hurt? Because he found it hard to trust again?

In any case, her light-hearted piece of advice had perhaps unwittingly been stinging… She had realised it the moment she had said it, but it couldn’t be taken back any more.

Oh well, whatever. Done was done.

She recalled how he had taken her hand tonight and said that running away never worked. That had completely taken her by surprise. He wasn’t a touchy-feely person at all, and it had clearly taken him some effort back then when he had taken her hands to ‘support’ her after Aimee’s death. Considering all this, his spontaneous reaction to her confession that she was thinking about leaving was baffling. It had felt good to hold his hand for a few seconds – it hadn’t been longer than that. But apparently he was unbending, and his natural shyness was dwindling a little.

For her, it was normal to touch people, but for him, it was a big deal. So, this action made her think. She figured her statement that it might be time to spread her wings had shaken him up. And really, it must have come as a shock to him. Obviously, he hadn’t had any idea that she had been feeling so restless.

He was clearly unaware of the effect he had on her. Well, maybe the signals she had been sending had been contradictory… but then, she didn’t quite know what she wanted, so how could her signals be clear then?

Oh, it was difficult. So difficult. And he was right – running away was silly, and it didn’t work. She knew that. Was she trying to run away? She flopped on her back and pushed the pillow to the side, staring to the ceiling. She’d have to wait for the response to her job application, and then she could make a decision.

She took a deep breath and decided to take one step after another. There was no point in brooding. She should think of something else before trying to sleep. Now – what could that be… She closed her eyes for a moment, and Richard appeared – as she had seen him in front of the mirror at the station. For a minute, she reveled in the memory of his shirtless torso – then she giggled and chided herself for being silly and turned to her nightstand to switch off the lamp. Tomorrow was another day. She’d see what would happen.

*************

The painter – Nick - came to the station on the next morning. Richard had dragged himself out of bed early so he could meet him at 8 a.m. Like Eddie, the painter had brought an assistant – who seemed to be more useful, though, than the electrician’s helpmate. Less talkative, too. He started to cover up the furniture while Richard and the painter were discussing details, and he brought in all the necessary tools without being asked. He seemed vaguely familiar, but Richard couldn’t decide where he had seen him before.

As Nick and Richard were talking about details like the opening to the cell compartment and the necessity to add a specific waterproof layer of transparent paint in the sink area, Nick’s assistant began to fix protective plastic foil to the window frames so they wouldn’t get soiled, and Richard shot him an appreciative glance.

“You’ve got a very attentive assistant there, Nick,” he commented.

“Hmmm. Yes, I guess you’re right,” Nick replied. With a low voice – so his helper didn’t hear - he explained: “He was a bit slow on the uptake at first, but he has developed nicely over time. You may know his older brother, Carlton Banks is the name. He’s a nurse at the Jacaranda Clinic. I heard you had a case there a while ago, so you might have met him. He went to school with one of my cousins.” Richard nodded, without giving anything away about how he had met Carlton.

Nick continued “Sadly, Vincent here doesn’t have his brother’s brains, and Carlton was pulling out his hair because nobody wanted to give Vincent a chance with an apprenticeship or even just a casual job. His marks just weren’t good enough, and so Carlton was afraid he’d end up with the wrong kind of people… you know what it can be like when the young ones don’t have jobs and are bored. So when he heard that I was looking for someone to help me out, he went to see Dennis – my cousin – and asked him to put in a good word for Vincent. Dennis then told me, and I don’t think I would have accepted him otherwise – his school reports were atrocious. But it turned out that he’s reliable and willing to work, and that is what counts for me. He may be slow, but once he has understood what you ask him to do and why it’s important, he’ll be happy to do it. Basically… You tell him to show up – he will show up. He’s grateful for the opportunity, and he’s making the best of it. And he’s polite – but then that’s what the Banks family has always been like. Good background, decent people.” He nodded, as if he wanted to give his words additional weight.

Richard had listened with interest. He was impressed with Nick’s willingness to try his luck with Vincent, against all odds, and it occurred to him that there was indeed a positive aspect of people knowing their neighbours’ business and ‘sticking their nose into other people’s affairs’, as he usually called it. Food for thought!

While Nick opened a bucket of paint, Camille appeared on the scene. “Good morning”, she said. Richard turned around and said surprised “Oh, Camille… I thought you were taking the day off?” “Yes, that’s the plan. I just wanted – er – to check my e-mail here and change a few settings so all incoming messages are re-directed to my private address, you know. I forgot to do that yesterday.”

Richard suddenly felt sick. Of course… she wanted to make sure that the e-mail from Paris reached her…

“Where are the boys?” she asked casually. Richard just looked at her for a moment… then he seemed to wake up and replied “Ah… Dwayne and Fidel… yes. I told them to take the day off and remain on call. I’ll stay here, and you can go home, if that’s what you want to do. We can discuss tonight how we’ll handle things tomorrow.”

They had put up a big sign that the police station was currently unmanned due to renovation works and had announced that the team could still be reached under the familiar telephone number – calls were redirected then, so that should work out fine. Richard didn’t intend to spend all day here, but he had taken along his laptop and dug out a couple of files that he wanted to look through and make notes on, so he would have work to do.

Camille shut down the computer again – it had only taken her a few minutes to make the necessary changes. There hadn’t been any response to her application yet, but she was hopeful that she’d hear from Paris soon. They usually didn’t leave people hanging for too long.

“Do you mind if I take the car?” she asked. “I can always take it to your place if you need it, but I’d like to have it for the day so I can go to the beach at the other side of the island. I could take the bus, but well, you know how long it takes! As long as the weather is nice today, I want to take advantage of it. I’ll leave my phone on, so if you need transportation, just text me or give me a call, and I’ll be right there.”

Richard had no objections. He still was in a bit of a daze. The whole job issue had been a little unreal and far away for him yesterday night. Now that he saw her acting more openly, it seemed that things were already decided. Of course, that was nonsense… well, hopefully it was!

But he could feel how his heart was sinking...


	9. The Calm before the Storm

As the day went by, Nick and Vincent made considerable progress. Richard congratulated himself for following Fidel’s recommendation – the station already looked much nicer, and the walls would be finished by tonight, Nick had promised.

Around noon, Richard – who had set up a small folding table (that had been the only item stored in the spare room that they actually had decided to keep) - on the porch so he could work and wouldn’t disturb the painters any more than necessary – had a look and was rather impressed. Vincent had painted the wall with the sink first thing in the morning, and now that the paint was dry, he added the extra layer of transparent varnish, as they had discussed earlier on. Richard watched him and was pleased to see how carefully, yet swiftly Vincent proceeded. Three walls were finished already, and Nick asked what he thought about the result so far.

The difference was amazing – although they had chosen a similar colour, the office looked much brighter and friendlier, and of course, the dark edges were gone. “It went fairly quickly because it’s all straight walls, and that always is easier than having to deal with dozens of little nooks and crannies. You can just keep going and going – no need to look out for the next tip, you know. Of course, there’s the woodwork and all that, but it wasn’t too hard to paint around that. As it is, I don’t think we’ll need a second coat of paint,” Nick said. “This looks really good, and it won’t get better if you paint it for a second time.”

Now, that was a good sign – he didn’t want to rip them off by doing unnecessary work… He continued “I think you should let it dry overnight, and to make sure that it’s really completely dry, you shouldn’t begin to move the furniture back to the walls before tomorrow noon or so. If you want to, we can come to help you with that – I know some of that stuff is heavy, and it’s always good to have some extra hands.”

Richard thanked him and agreed that they could use some extra help. He had pulled a muscle in his back when they had moved one of the filing cabinets, and he was not keen on repeating this experience. Together with the grey hair he had found recently, the pulled muscle had contributed significantly to him feeling as old as the hills for a few days – and he rather wanted to forget about that than being reminded of it again.

He returned to his folding table and was diligently entering data into a spreadsheet that he had created – it was supposed to go into one of the databases later when they were online again – when a shadow fell over his little folding table. He looked up and saw the Commissioner.

Immediately, he stood up – the folding table wiggled in a dangerous manner, but fortunately didn’t topple over. Selwyn Patterson smiled knowingly – ah, the Inspector always was so nervous… “May I have a word, Inspector?” he asked.

Richard wondered what would happen if he said ‘no’ – but he didn’t dare trying. So he just nodded. Suddenly, he was afraid that the Commissioner would inform him that Camille had received a job offer and he would have to let her go... He didn’t trust his voice, so decided to say nothing.

But the Commissioner just wanted to know how much more space they’d want in the Government House for their ‘archives’ and if he was happy with how the renovation project was progressing.

Richard invited him to have a look, and they went inside. Immediately, Nick came down the ladder he had been standing on and began to chat with the Commissioner – he was respectful, but didn’t hide his light under a bushel, either. Once again, Richard felt pretty useless as he stood beside the Commissioner, ‘like a dummy in a school play’, he pondered. But well, you couldn’t be good at literally everything, and his strengths were elsewhere. The Commissioner surely was a brilliant manipulator, and that had brought him where he was – along with his other skills and qualifications, of course – but he – Richard – clearly was the better detective. At this thought, Richard had to stifle a smug smile – fortunately, nobody was looking at him.

At around 4, the painting was done, and Nick and Vincent tidied up the office. They hadn’t really made much of a mess, much to Richard’s delight. Nick promised they’d return between 1 and 1.30 p.m. on the next day so the filing cabinets and desks could be moved back to the office and things could be re-arranged in the station. Richard thanked them and folded up his table as they drove away. It was getting a little squally outside, and he wasn’t keen on getting his laptop and working material blown away.

He dropped the files, pens and stapler in the box next to the table and put the lid on it – Dwayne had written “CHIEF!!!” in capital letters on it (Richard loved the exclamation marks – whatever they were supposed to mean, they seemed to increase his importance!) -, took the table to carry it into the spare room and then came back to take the box inside as well. When he had put it on top of the other boxes, though, a thought crossed his mind… He opened the lid again, dug into the box and angled for the tin with jelly babies he had hid in there. He figured he had deserved a treat… after all, the Commissioner had shown up, that always was a bit of a test.

“Ah, here you are,” a familiar voice said. He turned around to see Camille leaning in the doorway. She arched her eyebrows at him and said teasingly “Go ahead and have one of your jelly babies. I’m sure you’re dying to have one – that look on your face is typical of junkies undergoing withdrawal symptoms.”

Instead of getting all flustered and agitated, as he would have a year ago or so, he now gave her one of his half smiles and replied “Rumbled, huh? Should have known that you’d show up to scold me when I’m rewarding myself for getting through the day here…”

“Oh, I’m not scolding you. I’m here to drive you home – that is, if you don’t need any more help with sorting things out in here. It looks good, doesn’t it?” She turned around to look and admired the warm yellow walls. “Amazing what a new coat of paint can do – and I’m sure that the new outlets will make a huge difference, too.”

Richard decided to forgo the jelly baby. The Commissioner’s visit hadn’t been that bad, had it… and seeing Camille was reward enough, he figured.

He moved to stand next to her and gave her a rundown on his conversations with Nick and explained that he and Vincent would come back after lunchtime on the next day to help with the furniture.

“I don’t think Dwayne and Fidel will have to come and help under those circumstances, but I’d appreciate your presence, Camille. You know, we discussed a few changes about how the desks should be positioned and all that, and I think you’ll do a better job at explaining that than I will. And we could begin to move some of the files into the cabinets – depending on how much time is left. If it gets too late, we can always leave that and continue on Monday.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll be there after noon then – that should work out fine. I haven’t got any real plans for tomorrow, and it’ll be nice to get things back in order around here. Although I have to say that it was fun to have an unexpected day on the beach – it was a lot more quiet there than it is on weekends, as you can guess. Right… I think if you are done now, we should shut down everything and hit the road – look, those clouds over there don’t bode well!”

They both began to move away from the doorway in the same moment and consequently bumped into each other. There was some shuffling, and for an instant, Camille lost her balance – so Richard grabbed her upper arms to steady her. “Everything okay?” he asked. She looked a little startled, but then just laughed and assured him she was fine. He let go of her arms – reluctantly, as it seemed. There was a certain look in his eyes… But surely that was only wishful thinking from her side…

The shutters were closed quickly, then Richard grabbed his briefcase, took out the key to lock the door, and followed Camille to the Rover. During the drive to his shack, he asked Camille about her day, and casually, she told him about the beach she had gone to.

“It’s one of my favourite places, but usually I can only go on weekends, when everybody is out and about… and of course, it’s nicer when it’s not so crowded, so it was good that I had the chance to go there today. Even though it’s hurricane season and you can’t swim there then with all the seaweed floating around, it’s still nice to sit or lie in the sand and listen to the waves. It was so peaceful. I actually fell asleep at some point – haven’t done that on the beach since the stone ages, I must admit! Aimee and I used to go there when we wanted to escape our ‘watchdogs’, you know…” Her voice sounded wistful.

They were silent for a moment. “Sorry,” she said then. “I didn’t mean to be morbid.” He gave her a sideways glance and said, much to her surprise “Don’t apologise for your feelings. And you’re not morbid. You’re grieving, and that’s a whole different thing. You miss her a lot, don’t you?”

“Hmmm. Yes, I do. She and I… we had a special bond, and on some days, I just cannot understand that she’s gone, and it makes me so angry that she’s not here any more. It’s been over a year, and it’s not that I think about her constantly and all the time, but every once in a while, it can get pretty bad. Like… I want to call her to tell her something, and then I realise – she’s gone. Today, I had a moment when I went through the contact list on my phone, and her name popped up – I still haven’t brought myself to deleting it… and I just sat there and cried… Oh well. Took me a few minutes to move on.”

She sighed and sniffled a little. Then she continued, with a steadier voice “Well, you know how things and places remind you of people, and while it makes you happy one day, you’ll cry over it another day. Grief is a strange thing.”

“It is,” he agreed. “People say that you get over it. Personally, I think it’s rather a matter of learning to live with it, though.” She nodded. “I think you are right. It’s like with anything – it becomes a part of you, and sometimes you dwell on the happy memories, at other times all you know is that it hurts, and there’s nothing that could comfort you.”

They went on in silence for the remainder of the drive, and when they reached the shack, Richard just jumped out and said “See you tomorrow then.” Camille nodded, reversed the car and drove off – waving as she saw him standing and holding up his hand to greet her.

On the way back to the main road, she wondered what on earth had come over her to tell him about Aimee and how much she missed her – she would never have mentioned anything like that to him only a few months ago. But things had changed – and his behaviour had changed, too. A few months ago, he wouldn’t have encouraged her to continue talking by asking about her feelings. He wouldn’t have been interested. Or maybe he would, but he would have thought it was none of his business and kept quiet. It seemed like he had understood that if you wanted someone to be your friend, you had to be a friend, too. She smiled a little. He wasn’t so hopeless in the end…

She didn’t want to know why this thought suddenly made her happy despite her sadness about Aimee being gone.

When she turned to get on the main road, she switched on the radio to get a little distraction. The news were on, followed by the weather forecast. Uh-oh – that didn’t sound great. The tropical storm was heading towards Saint Marie, as it seemed, and it would hit the island tomorrow, most likely in the late afternoon, as the weather man said with a cheerful voice. Those weather people always were happiest when disaster struck, as it seemed… But then again, ‘normal’ wasn’t interesting for them, Camille pondered.

The day on the beach had done her good, despite the sad moments in between. It had helped her to re-group and find her balance again – well, more or less. The short nap had also refreshed her. Her nights were a bit fitful at the moment…

She wondered what Maman might have cooked for dinner. They had patched up somehow, but Catherine realised that Camille was serious about the job in Paris, the blind dates and everything else. She was not happy with this all, but understood that for the moment, she couldn’t do anything… she had already done too much, apparently.

Her daughter had insisted on her cancelling the blind date with Paul – he was an occasional customer at the bar and had looked very lonely lately… Catherine had sighed and then dialed Paul’s number to let him know Camille couldn’t make it. He had sounded disappointed, but understanding – and he hadn’t insisted on setting a new date. That had made it a little easier – but Catherine still had felt bad.

Camille had been very cross with her, though, and her concern for Paul didn’t go as far as her love for her daughter… and the longing to live in peace with her.

When Camille came home, the house was empty. She remembered all of a sudden that Catherine had been invited to attend a birthday party at the other side of town. Hurricane season always was the time when Catherine could reconnect with her friends and visit them – that was impossible during the tourist period when the bar was open until late at night, on at least six days a week. Catherine tried to keep one evening clear, but during the busiest season even that was out of question.

So, Camille had another evening by herself. She could have gone out or called a friend – but she didn’t feel like doing so. Instead, she made herself something to eat – there were enough vegetables and other ingredients in the fridge – and curled up on the couch to watch a favourite DVD.

Her mind wandered off, though… what would come out of the job application? Did she want the job, after all, or were her attempts to make changes silly – mostly because she really wanted a change, but in another department of her life? Ah well… She had too many different things on her mind.

Maybe she could think clearer again once the announced tropical storm was over… she felt that the atmosphere of waiting and holding her breath paralysed her… Well, at least tomorrow, the renovation works would be finished, and then she – and the others – could enjoy the novelty of a nicely redecorated office, with more amenities than before, and that would be fun.

It was nice of Nick and Vincent to promise to come and help with moving the furniture. She grinned at the memory of Richard fishing for his box of jelly babies– he was so funny sometimes… She had only driven to the station on a whim – when she had asked him if she could have the Rover for the day, he hadn’t mentioned that he’d want her to come back and drive him home. After all, he usually walked, so he was used to that. But she had wanted to see him…

Then her mind jumped to the moment when he had grabbed her bare arms to steady her and the look he had given her just before he let go. The grip of his hands had left her skin tingling – but not in an unpleasant way – and she had felt butterflies in her stomach. On one hand, she had despised herself for feeling that way – on the other hand, though, it actually had been exciting. She hadn’t felt like this in quite a while. For a moment she had wished he’d pull her towards him – but of course, that hadn’t happened.

It was just surprising that of all men she knew, it was Richard who made her feel this way. If only… oh well. It was useless to dwell on it. She rolled her eyes at her own thoughts.

Time to call it a night… she got ready, slipped into her bed and enjoyed the feel of the crisp sheets. She would spend the next morning sleeping in and looking through her wardrobe – too much rubbish had accumulated there – and then around noon she’d go to see Richard.

No, she corrected herself - she wouldn’t go to see Richard – she would go to help rearranging furniture, shelve files and tidy up the station. But Richard would be there as well, so… And with that on her mind she finally fell asleep.

***************

Friday arrived, and Richard spent a lazy morning at home. Technically, he was on call, so his phone was on, but he didn’t expect any urgent calls. The Commissioner knew that the station wouldn’t be manned, but that he could contact him via phone, and if anybody else called the station – the call would get redirected.

He had decided to skive half a day and go to the office at around half past eleven, so he could rummage around a little before Camille, Nick and Vincent showed up. He wasn’t quite sure when Camille would come – he had just told her when the painter and his helper would come, but he had no idea if she planned to come around the same time or a little earlier. Well, he’d find out. He had woken up at some ungodly hour again due to the pelting rain on the tin roof of his shack and decided to make up for the loss of sleep by having a lie-in with a good book and a mug of tea at his bedside.

It reminded him of what it had used to be like when he had come home from boarding school during Christmas break – sometimes, his mum had allowed him to stay in bed a little longer. And once he had fallen ill with a horribly sore throat just after the holidays, and he had spent four wonderful days sitting in bed, half buried under a feather duvet, with his favourite books, plates full of cookies beside him and a continuous stream of tea coming from the flask that his mother had set on his nightstand. His tatty teddy bear had kept him company as he had spent hour upon hour reading about astronomy, the life of bugs and other miraculous subjects, listening to the radio and dreaming about what adventures life might have in store for him once he was a grown up.

He had never been a carefree, jaunty child, but he had had dreams about what he’d do with his life later on… a life where he wouldn’t get bullied and bossed around. Strangely enough, he had always been on his own in these dreams. He just hadn’t been able to imagine that there’d be anybody out there who’d share his interests and like him enough to spend time with him. And he hadn’t been sure if there was anybody in the world that he – the outsider - would feel comfortable with…

Apart from the sore throat and the awful cough syrup that he had had to take, that had been a marvellous time. He had loved it. His dad, of course, had grumbled that mum would be ‘spoiling’ him or ‘fussing too much’ – but Richard had enjoyed it… ‘Those were the days’ he thought with a reminiscent smile, poured himself a mug of tea and returned to bed, trying to decide which of the three books on his nightstand he’d tackle first.

Well, he wasn’t that hopeful young boy any more, obviously, but he still had his books, the radio, his TV shows (provided the TV worked proplerly), and every once in a while even a dream to turn to.

In contrast to his boyhood dreams, the dreams that had pre-occupied his mind recently very much included another person – he knew it was all unrealistic, a castle in the air, a flight of fancy… but it was something to turn to when he needed comfort or felt particularly lonely.

Sometimes, he longed for someone to be there for him, someone who’d understand him, someone who’d take him the way he was, someone who’d share his interests to a certain extent but also had individual hobbies (so there would be an atmosphere of mutual input and lots of things to talk about), someone who’d laugh with him, someone who’d hold and comfort him when he felt beside himself – and someone whom he – in return – would take care of in just the same way.

He despised himself a little for this sentiment, but couldn’t help himself. Probably, he was weak for feeling sad and lonely sometimes, and perhaps - every once in a while - he was what others would call a ‘wimp’, but he had feelings, and on some days, he just felt down.

Basically, he was longing for a companion, for a friend, and for someone to love… and yes, he actually had someone particular in mind. If only…

However, nobody knew, and it was good that way. A little dreaming wouldn’t hurt anybody, would it… So, it had become his guilty pleasure to sit back and daydream of what could be if things were different – or to hug his pillow and fantasize a little about what life could be like under divergent circumstances. It was a bit like being in a short story of James Thurber… Richard’s favourite had always been “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty”. Walter Mitty was the epitome of the hapless, unimposing man – and Richard could certainly relate to this fictional character.

Lately, though, his dreams had sometimes drifted off in a different direction and also included things that could hardly be labeled as ‘innocent fantasies’ any longer, but well… what could you do. He blamed it on the weather conditions – the nearing hurricane made him uneasy and edgy, and as a result, even his daydreams had become more… graphic, for lack of a better word.

***************

He was relaxed when he set off for the office in a fresh shirt, his dark grey suit and a striped tie… briefcase in one hand, umbrella in the other. He missed the weather ladies on British TV who cheerfully reminded people to “take their brolly” when venturing outside… but well, looking at the sky made that reminder rather obsolete today, as he said to himself. The clouds were dark grey, the wind was howling, and the air was damp and sticky. What an awful day... He hoped the tropical storm that was forecast wouldn’t hit too hard. Well, he’d just keep away from impetuous dustbins this time…

Camille arrived shortly after him. The look on her face was slightly pensive, but other than that, there was nothing unusual about her behaviour. Nick had been right, the colour had dried nicely, so when he and Vincent showed up, they could start immediately to move the furniture and get things arranged according to their layout. It went smoothly, and Richard noticed once again that Vincent was perhaps not the brightest crayon in the box, but he was willing to do whatever he was told, as long as it was said in a clear, friendly way.

Camille and Nick got into chit-chatting while they moved around the filing cabinets and desks, and Richard didn’t have anything to do but watch, listen, lend a hand very occasionally, and give important commands like ‘more to the right’, ‘no, that’s fine’ or ‘that doesn’t look right – push it to the left, just an inch or so – yes, much better’.

After two hours, everything was done, and Camille and Richard were left to their own devices after Nick and his helper had left and driven away. “Why did that boy look familiar?” Camille asked casually as they sorted files and put away things.

“He’s Carlton Banks’s brother,” Richard explained and handed her the telephone for his desk so she could plug it in again, like she had done with the main phone already. He repeated what Nick had told him, and she said “Ah. I didn’t know that. Isn’t it nice that he gave Vincent a chance…” She looked around and remarked “I think they did a good job, and I hope that the boys will like the new look, too!”

They continued to work in companionable silence, interrupted by the occasional remark, until they noticed that it had started to rain again - more heavily now. Camille got up and peeked outside. “Uh-oh,” she said. “Let’s close everything and lock up the station. If we don’t hit the road now, we’ll have to spend the night here, and I think neither of us is keen on that. I’ll drive you home, come on!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty” is a short story by American writer James Thurber. It was first published in 1939 and is his best known story. Apparently, Thurber based Walter Mitty pretty much on his own character.
> 
> I read this story at school in my English classes (grade 8 or so – back in the stone ages!), and I have never forgotten it – it has left a lasting impression, as you can tell. 
> 
> Apparently, there are numerous stage adaptations, and there are two movies (and a 1940s radio show) based on the story, the latest one having come out in 2013 (starring Ben Stiller). I haven’t seen either of the movies, so cannot comment on them. If you are not familiar with the story, I’d highly recommend reading it – it’s fun!


	10. The Storm Hits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating goes up to M from here. It's not 'sizzly' or incredibly over-the-top, but there are sexual references, and I thought it's better to be on the safe side. I had a bit of a difficult time writing this as I didn't want it to sound too kitschy - I hope you'll enjoy it. Feedback is welcome. And stay tuned - there are several more chapters in the pipeline.

The rain and the wind got worse as they drove the short route down to the beach where Richard lived. He couldn’t help it, but he really was a little scared with the wind being so fierce, although he felt completely safe in the car with Camille.

She did her best to avoid stray branches and other obstacles that apparently popped up out of nowhere, but every once in a while something hit the car, or it got caught by a gust of wind, and Richard jumped in his seat. The wipers hardly managed to keep the windshield clear, and they could barely see where they were going - it was like they were driving through the carwash.

This seemed more severe than last year – at least then they had managed to get to the weather station without too much trouble. Hell had broken loose when they had been inside, but they hadn’t had to face all sorts of things on the road, and the Defender hadn’t been whirled and shaken around like crazy.

Camille’s driving skills were impressive – she sometimes annoyed him with going too fast or hitting potholes during their rides together, but today, she showed her best repertoire of tricks and techniques to get through the rising storm. It seemed to take them forever, but they made it to the beach in one piece, and Camille made an effort to drive as close to his house as she possibly could.

“Phew,” she said as she finally shut down the engine. “That was nasty.” They sat in silence for a few moments, trying to recover from the bumpy ride.

It was obvious to Richard that there was no way Camille could go anywhere from here. The weather was too severe, and driving would get more dangerous by the minute. So, she would have to stay with him at the shack until it got better again.

He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that prospect, but since there was no way around it, he figured it was useless to dwell on it. It was better than having to stay in a weather station, that much was sure.

He tried not to think of the feelings he had for her – and what could happen if they spent hours together cooped up in his little house. He was very aware of the effect she had on him, but obviously, he’d have to ignore it.

The truth was… nothing was going to happen between them, anyway. Not as long as he was Richard and she was Camille.

So he tried to ignore the sudden mental image of Camille snuggling up to him and focused on reality.

They’d just have to make the best of the situation, and hopefully, they wouldn’t argue too much.

Although, in all fairness, they had got along fairly well over the past few months, with the occasional shouting or passive-aggressive behaviour in between, and their recent friendly conversation on the beach had also made a difference in their relationship…

So there was hope they’d both survive, and all in all he really wasn’t entirely unhappy with the situation – he admitted to himself that being on his own in the shack was a little creepy when it got bad outside, and although he would never have told anyone… having someone around would make it less scary. If nothing else, then Camille’s presence would at least distract him.

His thoughts were interrupted by her words “Got your briefcase? I’ll count to three, then you get off the car, and I’ll follow you rightaway!” Taking the umbrella would be useless – it would just turn upside down and get damaged from the strong wind – it had already acted up a little on the short way between the station and the Rover’s parking spot.

So, Richard nodded, clutched his briefcase and jumped out at her command to run to the shack’s entrance. As quickly as possible, he unlocked the door, tumbled inside and held the door open as he saw Camille coming right after him.

He shut the door with a bang when she was inside, breathing heavily and turning the key in the lock. Then he flicked the light switch next to the door - so the lamp in the kitchen went on - and turned around.

Camille was standing a few steps away from him, in his small kitchenette, right in the bright light of the neon lamp. Her long curls were hanging all over her face and shoulders, straggly and wet, and she was gasping for air, but her eyes were shining, showing her zest for life, and she laughed as she looked at Richard who was trying to breathe normally again and gave her a nervous little half-smile.

Then, she lifted her arms to shove her hair out of her face. Oblivious to Richard’s gaze and completely focusing on the task in hand she threw back her head and smoothed her hair, tying it up with a scrunchy that she had been wearing on her wrist, like a bracelet.

Richard couldn’t help it – his eyes widened, and for the first time ever he allowed himself to ogle Camille openly – brazenly and without thinking or censoring himself. She was wearing bootcut jeans and a light white cotton tunic without collar – back in his youth these garments had been called ‘peasant blouses’ or something like that, but he was sure that some creative mind had come up with a more politically correct term in the meantime.

In any event, the blouse was now completely transparent as she was literally soaked to the skin from the rain, and although Camille was wearing a white camisole under it, her upper body might as well have been completely naked – he could clearly see every detail of her torso, the slim waist, the flat and firm abdomen, the well-shaped ribcage, the small, perfect breasts with the pointed peaks that were hard now from the rain and wind… her lifted arms brought out all the details even more distinctly…

He had seen her in other, more skimpy and provocative clothes, even a tiny bikini before – after all she had worn no more than that when he had arrested her… He hadn’t known her back then, obviously, so she had just been a beautiful – but basically irrelevant - woman to him, and he hadn’t wasted any more thoughts on her appearance.

Now, of course, it was different – she was Camille, and he had developed deeper feelings for her with time. That just made her all the more attractive. And of course, he had had more than enough time to dream and fantasize about her…

No matter where his fantasies had taken him, and no matter how unsettling and confusing it had been to see her in the bikini back then… he hadn’t been prepared for the sight he was presented now.

This view was incredibly erotic, and Richard swallowed hard. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Finally, he closed them in despair - and tried to pull himself together. When he felt safe again, he opened his eyes and looked up, just to find Camille watching him. He couldn’t quite read the expression on her face – hopefully she hadn’t noticed him gawping…

Before either of them could say anything, the light went out with a hissing noise. The power had gone off.

Instead of doing what he really wanted to do (although he couldn’t even admit to himself what precisely that would be), Richard cleared his throat and said somewhat sheepishly “I’ll get us a flashlight, and then you can freshen yourself up a little. Just a moment…” He moved towards her. It was basically pitch black due to the closed shutters, but he found his way, moving along the kitchen furniture.

When he got closer to her, he heard her breathing – her breath was slowly getting calmer. She stood entirely motionless – only her chest was moving as she was breathing, but he couldn’t see that… it was more that he imagined it. He could also feel her body heat – the kitchenette wasn’t particularly spacious, and it was basically crowded with more than one person inside. He had often compared it to the small galley kitchens on sailboats – weren’t those called ‘cabooses’? Or was that used for kitchens in trains? Either way, interesting word… Richard kept his mind busy with random stuff so he didn’t think of how close the woman right next to him was and how much he wanted her.

He apologised to her for the inconvenience as he passed her, inwardly chiding himself for being such a cowardly moron… why, oh why on earth was he searching for a flashlight when all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and…

He was a man, after all…

But alas, he was painfully aware of his shortcomings in the relationship department. And he was who he was, and she was who she was – and that meant that he was plain old Richard who didn’t do certain things, and she, well, she was Camille and played in a whole different league. Knowing himself, he figured he’d do something stupid, anyway, and things would go horribly wrong. And she wouldn’t want him, in any case. Why would she want him if she could have any other man – he wasn’t that irresistible, he knew that! He was the ridiculously wooden and awkward Inspector who was pretty much clueless about women… almost middle-aged, not particularly attractive, slightly obsessive-compulsive in his habits…

Most likely she would just laugh, or shove him off disgustedly, or – even worse – take pity on him. No matter how much he might want her – all these possibilities would be too humiliating. And he hadn’t forgotten that she was trained in self-defence – he didn’t want to end up on the floor, begging her not to hurt him – the very thought of that was mortifying.

So, eventually, it was better not to do something he might regret later on. They would have to stay together here for a while until the storm calmed down – and it would be terribly embarrassing if he made a wrong move now. Not to mention that it could complicate things at work, and she’d have every right to file a complaint about him for sexually harassing her if he touched her.

No, no… it was better to play it safe.

Little did he know about Camille’s emotions. She had absolutely no desire to knock him out or hurt him…

Quite the opposite, actually.

For the longest time, she had been unsure about his feelings for her as he had always been on his guard, but she had seen his unconcealed gaze now, and she knew exactly what it meant – she recognised desire when she saw it. It had been there, in his eyes, as clear as crystal. So, he wasn’t immune to her… good to know that! A wave of relief and new hope washed over her – she had a chance then…

But she also suspected that he wouldn’t give in to his longing – he was far too correct and honourable… and surely nervous and afraid of her (and of himself as well, maybe!). He wasn’t very good at reading other people and most likely didn’t have the faintest idea about the effect he had on her. Plus she knew from observation that he was self-conscious and would probably not even know how to approach her.

She had thought long and hard about her situation over the past few days on the beach and at home, and the e-mails that she had received this morning had confirmed her in her tentative decision. Now, she only had to tell him – and whatever his reaction would be, she’d have to take it from there. But at least she knew now that he had feelings for her that went beyond friendly affection… and that changed everything.

She could take action now. The question was when and how – but she’d find a way.

She heard him poking around in a drawer, and then a light went on, and he returned with two flashlights. He handed her one and kept the other, avoiding her gaze and saying “Please excuse me for a moment – I’ll get a towel for myself, and then the bathroom is yours, and you can – er – get rid of that wet stuff.”

He had already taken off his jacket. In the dim light she could see that the front of his shirt was drenched, and it was partly clinging to his torso, revealing all the exciting details she already knew from secretly watching him at the station recently. She was too confused to say anything, so she just nodded in assent and let him pass.

Richard dashed into the cubbyhole that served as his bathroom and hastily grabbed a towel. Glancing at his reflection in the mirror, he realised the apprehensiveness on his face, and he closed his eyes again for a moment, ordering himself to calm down and take deep breaths. “Inhale, exhale… inhale, exhale…” he murmured, and slowly he felt how he was beginning to relax a little again. This was ridiculous, really. He was a grown man. Why was he so agitated? Well, that was a rhetoric question, and he knew it. However, he decided not to dwell on it, but take one step after another – he was determined not to let his confusion take the upper hand.

When he came out of the tiny bathroom again, toweling his hair, he appeared fairly calm and composed. He held the door open for her, pointed to a hook and said “There’s a robe that you might want to – um – change into. I’m afraid I’ve worn it a couple of times, but – well, I hope you don’t mind. I don’t have anything else that I could give you until your clothes are wearable again - I’m sorry. Towels are in that cupboard over there – just help yourself!”

Camille thanked him and closed the door firmly behind herself. She couldn’t wait to get out of the drenched clothes. The flashlight went onto the hook with the robe, and without wasting another moment, she stripped off all her clothes. Oh, that felt much better… Even her underwear was soaked – and she had only been in the rain for less than a minute!

She looked around, opened the small cupboard he had pointed out and found a towel. Oh, look – there also was a little basket with fresh boxers! How convenient. She couldn’t possibly put on her wet panties again, and the robe alone would perhaps be a bit too… open. She giggled at the thought of his face when he might realise she was wearing a pair of his boxers. Well, she wouldn’t tell him, and maybe he would never find out.

Then she looked in the mirror and was aghast. She never wore all that much make-up, so fortunately she didn’t look too horrible now – no rivulets of mascara were running down her face, no smeared eyeshadow or lipstick were staining her skin – but it was still bad enough, she felt. She washed her face, undid and dried her hair as far as possible and tied it up again, then she saw to getting herself dry and tidy before she slipped into one of his boxers and put on the light cotton robe. It was a little too large for her, but never mind, at least it was comfy and dry. And when she buried her nose in the collar, she noticed that it smelled of soap and after shave – like Richard. She liked that…

Now, what to do with the wet stuff? She couldn’t possibly leave it in a pile on the floor. She looked around and saw a handrail in the shower cabin. She hung her camisole and panties there, the jeans went on the hook where the robe had been, and the blouse… Oh, she’d just have to ask him for a hanger…

When she emerged from the bathroom, he had already changed his shirt and put on new socks and slacks. He wore slippers. His shoes were placed neatly side by side on a piece of cardboard, and she assumed he had stuffed them with paper towels already. She was still wearing her sandals, but they were drenched, too. Her toes curled in discomfort.

He handed her a hanger upon her request, and the blouse went into the bathroom where she put it inside the shower cabin so it could dry off. It was dripping wet, so she didn’t want to put it anywhere in his main room. He was already upset about all the sand that came in there, there was no point in adding to his pain by flooding the room on top of all that.

She slipped out of her shoes and put them next to his so they could dry. He looked at her feet. “Are you sure that’s okay?” His voice sounded concerned. She looked up, smiled, and replied “No worries, I don’t mind being barefoot. And the floor is so tidy and clean – I’m sure you sweep it at least twice a day… In any case, I promise I’ll wipe off my feet before pulling them up on the chair or so, of course!” She had stuffed a couple of tissues into the pocket of the robe, just to be on the safe side.

It was somewhat unreal to sit in his shack with the flashlights and wait for the storm to go by. Richard took out a couple of thick pillar candles (“Bit cumbersome, but well, what can you do,” he said nervously) and asked if she wanted anything to eat.

“The power may be gone, but I can always fry eggs or something – the stove is run with gas,” he explained as he put the candles on a clean plate and lit them, one after the other.

Camille switched off her flashlight and remarked with a slightly provocative undertone “It’s so much nicer with the candles, Richard – more quaint and cosy, too!” His response was an unintelligible mutter. Camille smiled. She had deliberately avoided the word ‘romantic’, but still… He was clearly embarrassed.

This would be an interesting evening, and she was in an adventurous mood now… who knew where this would lead them?

“So – food?” he asked a little nervously. “I don’t know what you have, but an omelette would be nice,” Camille replied. She got up and saw that he flicked the switch of the kitchen lamp. “The power is gone, you know,” she said softly. “Yes, I know, thanks for reminding me,” he snapped. Then, a little friendlier “It’s no fun to have a bright light flashing up in the middle of the night when the power might return, that’s why I switched it off. I forgot to switch off the TV once when there was a power cut, and I nearly had a heart attack when it went on again at 3 a.m. or so.”

She said “Ah. I understand – sorry, I shouldn’t have teased you.”

“Never mind,” he said with an almost invisible smile, “it’s not like I’m not used to it…”

He turned to open the fridge and directed the flashlight at its contents. “An omelette would work out fine – I just got eggs the other day,” he confirmed. “If I don’t use them now, they might go off, anyway – you never know when the power will return.”

Camille came round to stand next to him and held up her flashlight so he could see what he was doing. Richard got a little uneasy with her being so close to him but tried to pay no heed and appear unruffled. She stood so close that he could smell her perfume, and he almost dropped an egg when she leant over to hand him the salt and pepper - and he got a deep glimpse of her cleavage.

She wasn’t the busty type, but he didn’t care… As far as he was concerned, large busts were over-rated. Camille was beautiful, she was perfect, and… she was Camille, after all! What he had seen of her earlier had definitely let his imagination run free… and now this…

Her skin had the colour of molten toffee - the soft dark sort that was so delicious - and for a moment he wondered what it would feel like to touch her – right there… and then a little further down… and beyond there… He imagined her skin to be silken and smooth… he could almost feel it at his fingertips.

No, no – this was going too far. His face got hot, and it wasn’t because of the heat from the stove. He had to rein in his fantasies. Surely, it was all because of the hurricane heading their way… he had been feeling under the weather for a while now, and it was culminating tonight, that was all... And she was standing too close to him. He definitely had to be cautious so he wouldn’t betray his fantasies and feelings… With some effort, he managed to stop his hands from shaking when he put the finished omelettes on two plates and handed her one.

They had their food in silence. There was a certain tension between them that just wouldn’t fade. Camille suppressed a smile. She understood that he was nervous – he tended to be fidgety around women, anyway, unless it was a job-related encounter. He had become a lot more relaxed around her with time – but they had known each other for well over two years now, so it was about time, wasn’t it.

She figured that this stormy night reminded him of the night in the lab – and brought back the discomfort that he had felt there. And then, of course, they didn’t have a case to discuss now… She remembered how he had gone on and on about the case until she had thrown away his pen and told him to stop. Only then they had started to talk about childhood memories and some more personal stuff.

But tonight was different. She knew what his earlier gaze had meant, and she concluded that repressed feelings – that just wouldn’t go away - made him even more nervous… He felt tense and agitated, and no matter how much he tried to hide it – she noticed.

Well, she’d see what would come out of this… So far she didn’t have a plan, but maybe she wouldn’t need one after all. Maybe it would all fall into place somehow…

Richard was sitting opposite to her. He pretended to focus on the last little bit of food on his plate, but it was obvious that his thoughts were elsewhere. She dabbed the corners of her mouth, put her paper napkin to the side and said smilingly “Well, thank you for the candlelight dinner, Richard – that was lovely.”

He nodded and made a feeble attempt at polite conversation. “You are welcome. I’m sorry I couldn’t offer you anything more sophisticated, but at least it’s food, and it was warm.”

Camille leant over to reach for the water bottle, holding the robe’s collar with her left hand so it didn’t fall apart and reveal more than she wanted… at least at this point. She noticed the way his eyes were glued to her hand on the collar and then hastily turned to his plate again. She had to smile inwardly – now, this was all very promising! She was all covered up, but the little skin she showed seemed to fire his imagination – more than if she had only worn a bikini, she suspected. Another proof for the ‘it’s all in your head’ theory…

Well, they’d have to sit it out somehow, and she was determined to make it a pleasant evening. As far as she was concerned – she was open to whatever might come up!

She poured herself a glass and remarked “This is a nice robe. Looks a bit like your pyjamas, I think.” He looked up and raised his eyebrows. “Why, yes… I bought everything together. If you haven’t noticed yet, I quite like blue.” “Yes, and stripes… Nothing wrong with that,” she smiled. “It suits you, you know.”

Silence. He looked at his hands, clearly at a loss for words.

She took a sip of her drink. “So… how do you feel about the renovations now that they’re finished?” He gratefully took the cue – and they began to talk about the renovation in general, the Commissioner’s unexpected generosity, the contractors, the differences in handling things here, in France and the UK… and whatever else they could talk about in that context.

Then the conversation turned to the weather (always a safe bet) and how the wind was howling outside. It came in gusts, and although the little shack was huddled to the palm trees and couldn’t really get blown away, they felt somewhat exposed to the forces of nature. Occasionally, heavy raindrops came down as well.

Camille was glad that she wasn’t on her own in this little tin box. She wasn’t easily scared, but this was a little creepy. Richard had never mentioned how spooky and almost claustrophobic it could get in his shack when the weather was severe. But then… he might not perceive it that way. Or maybe he did, but had got used to it?

“Does it always get like this in here when there are storms?” she asked. “Depends on the direction of the wind, I figure,” he said. “But yes, it often sounds like this. Sometimes there’s also a hissing noise, that can be quite eerie. I must say that the transfer to the Caribbean has had some rather unexpected side effects. I mean, in the UK we have severe weather from time to time, too, but I grew up with that, and so I also can – er – assign the particular sounds and all that. But here – it’s like a constant assault to your senses and it turns everything you’ve ever learnt upside down.”

“Like everything you’re not familiar with, I suppose,” she said thoughtfully. “When I lived in Paris, there were all sorts of sounds and scents that I didn’t know, and it was a little stressful to get used to them. And it’s like that with everything, you know. If you don’t usually live close to a church, for example, the ringing churchbells will drive you batty.”

“That’s right – but they wouldn’t scare you, would they…”

“No. Do the howling winds and the hissing noises scare you?” she asked outright. The answer came a little haltingly. “Er… no. But – um - they took some getting used to,” he admitted.

“Hmmm. Yes, I can imagine.” She got up, took up her handbag and dug into it to take out her mobile phone. “Soaked,” she muttered and looked up. “I thought I’d send Maman a text message, but given the state of the phone and the general weather conditions, I doubt she’d get it. Ah well, so be it. I’ll just let it dry and see if it works tomorrow morning. If not, I can always dump it in a bowl of rice when I’m at home again…”

He nodded and said innocently “You could use my phone, but I don’t think the message will get through.” She smiled and imagined the look on her mother’s face if she received a text message from Richard’s phone. No, that wouldn’t be such a good idea.

She put the phone on the table next to her plate, stretched and said “Well, it’s been a long day. I don’t know about you, but I’m getting a little tired. I’m afraid there’s no way I can drive home at this point, so I guess we should begin to think about – er – sleeping arrangements…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to thank left_to_write for some of the ideas in this chapter, including the setting. I had originally planned to let them drive to Camille's place, but then left_to_write came up with a hurricane story where they were at Camille's, and I figured I'd have to change my original plans for them :-) That resulted in a complete make-over of the story up to this point, and I have to say it has come out better that way.


	11. An Evening with Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this story is not only about Camille and Richard, but also about Camille's relationship with her mother, we're now getting a glimpse into Catherine's feelings and finding out about how she gathers new insights...
> 
> *I know, I know... you weren't expecting this. But don't be too upset with me - I'll do my best to post another chapter over the next few days.*

_At the other side of Honoré_

 

Catherine Bordey checked the time again – why wasn’t Camille back yet? It was almost five o’clock in the afternoon, and she had said that she’d only go to the station for a few hours to get things straightened out there… Surely that had to be done by now? She would have liked to chat with her for at least five minutes before she had to set off…

Alas, there was no way around it – Camille wasn’t back, and the taxi would be there in a few minutes. So she left her a note on the refrigerator door, wishing her a pleasant evening and letting her know she was out to see friends – without specifying where she’d go – and they’d see each other in the morning.

She hadn’t told Camille about this invitation – one reason was that the invitation had come only very recently. The other (main) reason was that she wasn’t sure Camille would ‘approve’ of this particular visit at this point – she would justifiably be suspicious that her mother would blab about their recent argument – in the context of the job application… This idea was only too realistic, and Catherine didn’t want to make any promises to her daughter that she didn’t intend to keep – so she simply avoided the whole thing by not mentioning it at all.

She was a little agitated when she arrived at the Commissioner’s house for a late afternoon visit with an early dinner. She had been so anxious to talk to Camille – just to feel reassured that she wasn’t cross with her any more. The past few days had been emotionally taxing. She wasn’t used to living in a strife with Camille, and although they had patched up somehow by sweeping the conflicting issues under the rug, she felt uneasy with the still slightly tense atmosphere between them. She had realised that her own behaviour had contributed to the poisoned ‘feel’ between them, and she had recently experienced a few unsettling situations with friends that had made her think.

Catherine was secretly hoping there’d be an opportunity to broach the subject of Camille’s application for the job in France and everything connected to it when chatting with Lizelle Patterson. She felt that she needed advice – or rather, a second opinion. The recent clashes with her daughter had seriously unsettled her, and she was beginning to worry if she was indeed making a mistake and risking to drive her away for good by trying to play matchmaker.

When she had seen her friend Marie a while ago, she had lamented extensively about Camille’s stubbornness, and Marie had readily ‘discussed’ the whole thing with her – and agreed with her that Camille was indeed ungrateful and would end up on the shelf if she didn’t finally settle down and have children now.

On that evening, everything Catherine had heard from her friend had sounded right – in hindsight she admitted to herself that it had been what she had wanted to hear because it had confirmed her point of view and validated her emotional attitude to the topic.

A few days later, however, she had gone to that birthday party, and it had annoyed her that several of the other guests – not all of them had been people that she had known for a long time already, and it had felt weird to be approached by almost-strangers! – had asked her with fake compassion about how Camille didn’t seem to manage to find a suitable partner, about how she would end up on the shelf, about how horrible it surely was for Catherine to see her only child becoming an old maid.

Catherine suddenly had felt somewhat ruffled and started to wonder why everybody seemed to think that it was their business what Camille did with her life. True - she wasn’t happy about how Camille was handling things, but that didn’t mean others had the right to talk about it and make judgements… She had found their meddling irritating, and it had given her a better idea of what her daughter might feel like at times when she knew precisely that everyone was discussing her private life. She hadn’t encountered that sort of behaviour in such a concentrated way before, and she had admitted to herself that it was indeed frustrating and annoying.

Then, she had received an invitation from her friend Lizelle… Initially, she had considered turning it down – she had had too many people getting on her nerves recently. But then, she had changed her mind. Lizelle and Selwyn Patterson were excellent hosts, and it always was a pleasure to spend time with them. She needed something positive in her life for a change when everything seemed to go wrong somehow… So, Catherine had accepted the invitation under the condition that they’d have dinner early so in case the weather conditions allowed it, she could return to La Kaz in time to open the bar for the weekend.

But things panned out differently: When she arrived at the Commissioner’s house, the storm had not hit yet, but it was getting darker already, and when it turned out just before dinner that she would not make it home safely, Lizelle kindly offered her to stay in their guest room, and Catherine gratefully accepted.

Selwyn Patterson joined them for dinner, and they spent a cozy evening together in the spacious living room…

Inevitably, the Commissioner still was a little alarmed by Camille’s apparent restlessness. It had been obvious to him that she was anxious about something, and he feared that she would want to leave Saint Marie and return to the vagabond life of undercover work – or join the forces in France.

Either way, he would lose a valuable officer, and he didn’t want that. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it – whether it was only plain wanderlust, boredom, or dissatisfaction at work. Or something completely different. So, when given the chance, he decided to approach Catherine and find out if she had a clue about Camille’s feelings.

He had been pleased to learn that his wife had invited Camille’s mother for a meal. That would give him a chance to get a better idea of what was going on. However, he knew that he couldn’t be too obvious in his approach – he wasn’t sure in how far Catherine was aware of her daughter’s nervousness.

So, he had initially limited the conversation to general topics during dinner, and when they had sat down in the living room to enjoy a glass of good wine and Lizelle had lit several candles, he remarked casually “It’ll be nice for Camille and the others to work in the freshly renovated station – did she tell you about the works there, Catherine?”

Catherine nodded and explained that Camille recently had spent a day on the beach when Richard had put forward she’d take some time off and stay on call for emergencies.

“I was surprised that he suggested that – he always seems so uptight about everything, and while I don’t want to say he’s unfeeling, he can be very oblivious to other people’s disposition. But whatever, I do hope that helped to get the cobwebs out of her head,” she sighed.

“Oh?” Lizelle looked concerned. “Is she worrying about something?”

Selwyn Patterson reached out for his glass and said contemplatively “She seems a bit – er – anxious these days. I hope it’s nothing serious…”

Catherine cast down her eyes and debated with herself how much she could reveal. As unreliable as some of her other friends were… the Pattersons were trustworthy and discreet, and she had never been disappointed by them. And hadn’t she been thinking about asking for their opinion, anyway?

So, she decided to be open and said with a hint of despair “I’m not sure, but I’m afraid she’s thinking about leaving Saint Marie again…”

The Commissioner’s wife extended her hand to touch Catherine’s arm and asked “Oh, Catherine – why would she do that? I thought she’s happy here!”

Catherine felt the tears coming as she said “I thought so, too. But she has applied for a job in Paris, she told me the other day…”

That was not what the Commissioner had hoped to hear. If Camille applied for jobs abroad, she was serious – and if she didn’t get this one, she’d keep applying until she’d succeed. Unless, of course, the source of her frustration lost its impact, and she’d find it wasn’t so important after all. He hadn’t been contacted by the French so far, so he hoped that meant she wasn’t considered for the position in question, but you never knew with the French, did you!

Lizelle Patterson was concerned. Helplessly, she stroked Catherine’s arm and asked “But why? I mean, she must have good reasons! I remember she was happy to come back to the Caribbean, and it seemed that she settled in well. Of course, it was always a little difficult while she was undercover, and you couldn’t keep in contact openly, but when she began working at the Honoré station, everything seemed to fall into place…”

Her husband smiled and objected softly “Well, Lizelle, don’t forget how upset she was about having to work with Inspector Poole at first… that must have been very – er – challenging for her.” He chuckled at the memory of the two of them standing in the police station and saying in unison that they couldn’t possibly work with one another.

Catherine confirmed his statement. “She was livid at least half of the time… I can’t recall a single day when she didn’t come home complaining about him… at least during the first few months. He was so rude and arrogant… But they got used to each other, eventually, I think. I know that she’s eternally grateful for how he caught Aimee’s murderer. And admittedly, I was very happy when he solved the mystery of Angelique Morel’s daughter – I never believed in the suicide theory!”

The Commissioner nodded gravely. “Solving these cases was a huge success for him – and the entire team. He’s a very good detective. I must admit that while he’s solved several tricky cases, I was particularly satisfied with how he revealed the murderer of Angelique’s daughter. He succeeded where I had failed years ago – I don’t mind admitting it here in my own house although I would certainly never say it that openly in public. As it is, I may not always understand him, but he knows what he’s doing, and he has – er – very unusual approaches to cases sometimes.”

“Do you think so?” Catherine was surprised. “Camille always says he’s very correct and follows the same pattern in all cases… She says he’s ‘by the book’ – whatever that means - and it frustrates her no end.”

“It might seem that way,” the Commissioner explained. “But the thing is that while he always sets up the same pattern to examine means, motive and opportunity, he also pays attention to little details that most other people would ignore, and he never excludes any possibilities, no matter how unlikely they might appear at first. He’s a stickler for accuracy, extremely meticulous and shrewd, and sometimes that can really drive you – er – crazy, but he’s excellent in his job. You know, his approach is methodical at first, so that is what Camille means with ‘by the book’. But once he has collected all the details, he can be very imaginative with them. He’s absolutely capable of thinking outside the box. There’s little that he’d dismiss as ‘out of the question’, even if it might sound far-fetched at first. And he’s very observant. I think that not much could surprise him when it comes to motives and so on – he thinks that anything is possible, and when he has a suspicion, he will double- and triple-check. Even beer bottles that are not stored in the fridge won’t escape him – something that others would not notice or simply brush aside as insignificant…”

He thought back to the murder of Aimee Fredericks and how persistent – almost dogged – Inspector Poole had been about solving the case and going through every little detail, over and over again… Of course, his obsession could have had to do with the fact that Camille had been beside herself – Poole had clearly doubled his efforts in light of that.

He went on “However, he sticks to traditional methods of finding proof and is much into scientific and forensic stuff – and he’s very well-informed in that field. It’s a shame that we don’t have a lab here, but he has learnt to make do with the limited possibilities. Camille is more intuitive, but while that is good in itself, she sometimes jumps to conclusions and likes to rush things without having enough evidence. I’m not surprised she was unnerved with Poole’s painstaking methods at first. He slowed her down. But it did her good – and she has learnt patience that way. Which makes her a better copper. And he’s a better detective because of her – she makes him look at things differently, and she spurs him on.”

He leant forward to set his glass back on the table and added “It’s fun to watch them working together. They are extremely efficient. Each of them is brilliant on their own, but together, they are unbeatable. And Dwayne and Fidel will follow them anywhere – they are absolutely loyal, even if they don’t always understand what’s going on. Well, Fidel does… most of the time. He’s a very promising young man, and I’m glad that Poole recommended him for the exams so he could get a promotion. This is the best team that the Honoré station ever had, and I don’t want to lose that. So, I’m a little worried about Camille’s restlessness… If she leaves, Poole will lose his essential back-up, and he will have a hard time getting used to someone new again. He hates changes.”

Catherine tried to digest that. Of course, she had known that Camille was excellent in her job, but she hadn’t had any idea that Selwyn Patterson thought this highly of her – and of Richard, come to think of it. To her, Richard had always seemed fairly cold and rude, full of repressed feelings and unwilling to come out of his shell. In one word, English – and not in the positive sense of the notion. At least most of the time… Whatever Camille saw in him - she just didn’t understand it. Sure, he was intelligent and all that, but he was as lively as a paperclip.

She decided to reveal a few more details about her recent arguments with Camille to see what her friends would have to say about it. They didn’t gossip – Selwyn Patterson had his ears everywhere, but he didn’t engage in idle talk and tittle-tattle, and the same applied to his wife.

A little hesitantly, she began to talk about the blind dates she had been arranging for Camille, about her wish that she’d settle down and have a family, and about her fears that her daughter might be driven away from Saint Marie because of the pressure that she had put on her.

“But you know, I only want the best for her! What’s wrong with making her meet nice men – she doesn’t really meet any through work, and it’s not like I’d expect her to decide on one immediately. I’d be happy if she just gave any of them a second chance, but she’s never interested. She says they are nice, but not nice enough for a second date. I can’t understand her. They’re all well-respected gentlemen, none of them has tried to – er – grope her, they’re intelligent, have good jobs – what else could she wish for?”

Lizelle looked at her sympathetically and said “Oh, Catherine – I’m sure that she knows you mean well, and of course, all parents want the best for their children… But don’t you think it’s up to Camille to decide what to do with her life? Maybe she just hasn’t met anyone yet who inspires her enough to give him a real chance? That certain spark might have been missing, and I mean… she wouldn’t settle for someone who wouldn’t respect her or whom she couldn’t respect. Maybe the men she has met all were too desperate for a wife? Or they gave her the feeling that they’d suffocate her? You know how important it is for your daughter to be free. Maybe that’s why she feels she has to go away?”

“Or do you think it’s something work-related that makes her want to leave?” The Commissioner tried to remember the recent conversation with Camille in detail, but couldn’t find any hint for trouble at the station. Camille had admitted before that she didn’t mind any more being a regular DS– at first, she hadn’t been too excited, but she had got used to it over time, and more than once she had mentioned that working with Richard Poole was exceptionally rewarding – she had always said so in a seemingly casual way, in a cursory half-sentence, but the Commissioner understood that it was important to her.

True, Poole always took the time to praise his team and acknowledged the effort they put into their work, and that was more than a lot of detectives did. Most just claimed all the success being the result of their own efforts and didn’t lose a single word about their team. Not so Poole – he always emphasised that it was a joint effort and that ‘his’ success was really the team’s success. “I couldn’t have done it without them”, he had said several times already.

Catherine pondered the question and shook her head as she said “I don’t think so. She gets on with the team, and she enjoys her job.” She took a deep breath and added “Sometimes I think she enjoys it so much because of… the Inspector. It might sound far-fetched, but… As it is, I think that she has developed a very soft spot for him, against all odds, and well, I know that she’s aware of the non-fraternisation rules, so that might bug her – but it’s just an idea. I don’t know if she ever thought about anything like that seriously. But if it has come to her mind… then she might feel a little unsure about the situation. I mean, she had a relationships with one or two colleagues in France, but that wasn’t a big deal, they were the same rank like her. I’m not sure in how far the rules are applied here, and she might worry about that.”

Selwyn Patterson looked up and leant forward – so, maybe he hadn’t been so wrong after all with what he had concluded from his observations. They enjoyed working together, and they were beginning to have deeper feelings…

Now, he knew Poole – he wouldn’t break rules, and given the fact that they were fairly strict about the non-fraternisation rules in the UK, he might be under the impression that he’d get reprimanded, transferred to yet another place or even sacked for having a relationship with a subordinate. Or he’d fear that Camille would have to pay the price…

The Commissioner also knew Camille – if she had set her heart on him and he didn’t react, she’d surely rather leave than stick around. When the Inspector had returned from his visit in the UK a while ago, Camille had been happy to see him back – that much had been obvious.

So, maybe she had feelings for him, and he had feelings for her, but they didn’t dare to make a move because of the ‘rules’?

Not that this would keep them apart forever, he pondered – eventually, if circumstances came along that would act as a catalyst, they would break down and start something. But if they were under the impression of doing something forbidden, a possible romantic relationship would be doomed from the start. They might forget themselves in a moment of madness, but once they’d come to their senses, they’d feel guilty, and the affair would poison their work relation.

He said nothing about all this to Catherine, but tried to sound out a little more before making a decision about how to deal with the situation.

So, he asked “How do you feel about all that, Catherine? I know you’re not terribly excited about Inspector Poole, but what if Camille had taken a shine to him and wanted more than a professional relationship?”

Catherine took a sip of wine and said unhappily “Had you asked me a few days ago, Selwyn, I would have said I’d rather have Camille get involved with Oscar the grouch, but well, if the alternative is that either she’d stay here on Saint Marie with him or she’d go away and look for love and happiness at the other side of the world, I think I’d rather go for Inspector Poole. The thing is… I just don’t see him making her happy. He’s everything she isn’t, and they seem to challenge each others constantly. That’s not my idea of ‘happily ever after’, really!”

The Commissioner swirled the wine in his glass and said thoughtfully “Well, you never know, do you. They have more in common than it might appear at first glance. They are both very independent. They are both stubborn, too. Neither of them will do things by halves – they are both thorough in their own way. And they’re both absolutely – and I mean ‘absolutely’ - devoted to their work, and they are driven to solve their cases – they go different ways, but their goal is the same. And well… you have to hide a great deal of your own personality and your background to be successful in the undercover department, so Camille is used to hiding her real self, too. She doesn’t do it any more to the extent that she had to when she worked in that field, but she still knows how to put on a façade. Which isn’t so different from what Poole does, after all – though he does it for different reasons, obviously. It’s his second nature – maybe his first even. I don’t know him well enough to judge either way, but I believe that he’s hiding behind his Englishness for some reason. As long as he does his work properly, I have no reason to dig deeper – it’s none of my business.”

He took a deep breath and then said “And as far as making a woman happy is concerned and what the respective parents think about that… Lizelle’s parents weren’t so excited about me at first, either.” He chuckled as he saw Catherine’s incredulous look.

He passed his wife a tender glance and continued “I didn’t have much to offer in the financial department, and I know they had introduced her to a host of more eligible young men to make her see that I wasn’t worth her affection. I mean, I was young and had just got into the forces, and I couldn’t really support a wife at that point. We wanted to get engaged at least so everyone would see that we were serious… that’s the way it was back then. Nowadays, of course, it’s different – everyone is more liberal, and you don’t have to pop the question any more straight away. You can get to know each other before you settle down together, and generally, I think that’s a good idea. I’m sure that many unhappy marriages and eventually divorces in our generation could have been prevented if people had had the chance to spend time together without being forced into some sort of official arrangement.”

Catherine had never heard how he and Lizelle had got together – she had only got to know them when they had been already married – so she was curious to hear more about that.

Lizelle took her hand in hers and said “He’s right, Catherine. My parents were really annoyed with me. I was mulish, as they called it, and my dad and I had the worst arguments ever and many ugly words were exchanged… I know that he wanted to protect me from what he thought was being ‘young and foolish’. But I knew that it had to be Selwyn and nobody else. All the others – nice as they were – just bored me. None of them could measure up to him… And it’s been like that over all the years. I mean, we have our arguments and differences in opinion, but I have never regretted my stubborness. In the end, my parents had to see that there was no way around it – I’d either go on the shelf or be with Selwyn. We made peace eventually.”

She blinked away the tears that had welled up and continued “But… I will never forget how much it hurt me that my father didn’t speak to me for well over half a year after he had found out that I was wearing Selwyn’s ring… on a long golden chain around my neck, under my blouses and dresses – I could hide the chain easily by wearing a shorter necklace that was visible – everyone focused on that and didn’t notice that I also wore another, longer chain… you know, it’s all about distracting people! – because my parents hadn’t officially agreed to our engagement. Don’t do that to Camille, Catherine – don’t make her see men she’s not interested in. Let her go her own way. She’s over 30, she knows what’s good for her. And if she thinks the Inspector will make her happy, then let her try.”

“But Lizelle, if she doesn’t hurry up, it will be too late for children… and you know, I’m afraid she’ll miss out on one of the most wonderful experiences in the world…”

The Commissioner interjected “Well, I don’t know… we don’t have children, so I might not be in a position to judge, but right now, I can’t see that you’re having a wonderful experience with your daughter. Don’t you think it’s rather about you wanting grandchildren?”

Catherine flew into a rage immediately and glared at him. But as quickly as she had flared up, she calmed down again and admitted “Yes, there’s truth in this… But is that so wrong?”

Her friend Lizelle shook her head and said “No, it isn’t. But she has to live her life at her own pace and with her own happiness in mind… and you have already seen how she shuts you out when you try to take influence. I’m sure she knows that you only want the best for her. But what you may think is the best might not be the best in her eyes. Maybe she has entirely different plans. Plus, even if she wants a family… you don’t always know how things work out. I mean, look at Selwyn and myself – we wanted children, but it never happened…”

She exchanged a long glance and a tender – albeit slightly sad - smile with her husband. Then, Selwyn Patterson got up and said, slightly embarrassed “If you don’t mind, I’ll leave you now so you can talk a bit more… I’ll retire to my study, Lizelle, so if anything is the matter... I’ll see you in the morning, Catherine…” He nodded in her direction and wished her a good night before leaving the room, not without looking back at his wife, an almost invisible smile on his face.

Lizelle smiled back at him. Turning to her visitor again, she saw Catherine’s inquiring gaze and said softly “Forgive him – he still gets a little emotional when this topic comes up and rather wants to avoid it… I admit it is hard to talk about it, but I feel you should hear the whole story now so you can see what I’m referring to. I know you’re not going to gossip… Well, as it is… people say we didn’t want kids – and although it can be hurtful when you get to hear that someone calls you selfish or career-driven – respectively - we let them talk because we feel it’s private, and nobody needs to know what we have been going through. And maybe it’s better being called selfish than being the object of pity… that would have been the alternative, I suppose…”

She took a deep breath and explained “The truth is that we couldn’t have children, and when we realised this, we were devastated. But our love helped us to get through the difficult times, and we have found out that - as long as you are ready to make compromises and keep up the communication - there are many ways to find happiness. Parenthood is only one of them. Of course, there are still moments when we wonder what would have been if things had turned out differently – but it’s pointless to dwell on that. Selwyn has focused on his career and become active in all sorts of committees which gives him great satisfaction, and I have my charity work, plus I give lessons in the convent school, as you know – so I have tons of children now, if you will. My work might not bring more than a symbolic income if you look at the small amount of money I get for it, but that’s not the point. I’m in the fortunate position of not having to earn a living, and I love what I’m doing. All I’m trying to say is that you never know what life might bring you, and you have to be open and make the best of whatever happens… So, maybe it would be a good idea to let Camille find her own way. She has to run her own life and do what she thinks is best for her, and all you can do is be supportive when she needs you…”

With that, she got up and said “Let me show you your room and give you something to wear for the night. At the moment there’s nothing you can do, so try to relax and sleep on it. No point in worrying – tomorrow is a new day, and everything will look brighter then.”

For a while, Catherine lay awake. She listened to the noise that the storm was making. For a moment, she was wondering where Camille might be and hoping she had made it home in one piece. But her daughter knew of the dangers that a tropical storm brought, so she’d do everything to be safe… 

Catherine turned over and reflected on the conversation with Selwyn and Lizelle Patterson… she had to admit that they had raised some good points, and she figured she might have to make amends to Camille… she should really let her go her own way – and whatever would be, would be…


	12. Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back at Richard's now, trying to get through the stormy night. 
> 
> This chapter is partly - as Willowsticks always says it so nicely - not particularly bus-friendly material. I hope it's not too 'over-the-top' - it wasn't easy to write, and I hope you'll like it. 
> 
> Oh, and this is not the end of the story - there are more chapters to come, so stay tuned.

Sleeping arrangements... Richard looked at Camille apprehensively – and a little alarmed. She was still stretching her body – languidly, almost like a cat -, the collar of the robe was loosening a little, and he could see her cleavage again. His mouth was dry. ‘Talk about an assault to one’s senses in the Caribbean’ he thought grimly. He hoped he’d get through this night without too much trouble.

“Well,” he said tentatively, “Charlie Hulme – er – has left an air mattress somewhere – in one of the cupboard drawers. We – er – I could inflate that for myself, and you could have the bed?” He thought this was a rather generous offer – after all, it would mean a significant inconvenience for him. The only appropriate alternative he could think of would mean he’d spend a very uncomfortable night in his wicker chair.

There was another option, but no – no, that was impossible. Too dangerous…

But she gave him one of her famous looks with her eyebrows raised and said “You don’t mean that, do you? Unless you have a really good pump, it takes forever to get air into those monsters, and they smell awful and aren’t comfortable at all, trust me! Been there, done that – barely survived. And I wouldn’t want you to suffer just because you have been kind and given me shelter.” She smiled at him, feigning innocence. “I think there’s a perfectly fine bed here, and it’s big enough for both of us.”

He blushed. “Er… but, really, Camille… I’d rather…” “What, sleep on the floor or in one of your wicker chairs? Very gentlemanly, but also very dumb. No, no – don’t even think about it. Let me see – yes, you’ve got two pillows, so that should be enough, and the sheets are big enough, too. Oh, for heaven’s sake, Richard… we are grown-up people, we have done this before, and the makeshift bed in the lab last year was much less comfortable and way smaller than this.”

The way she said it made him appear extremely ridiculous, and he knew he had to give in. That wouldn’t be a quiet night for him… but then again, with the wind and the rain he wouldn’t sleep too well, anyway.

Yeah right, they had done this before, and it had been one of the most restless nights in his life. Because they were grown-up people, actually. And – unlike now - she had been fully dressed, just like himself… and it had been difficult enough not to get carried away already. He couldn’t rely on his suit this time – that had been his armour in the lab… That and a host of thoughts full of self-contempt…

He recalled how confused he had just felt by the stove when she had been so close to him and wondered for a moment if she thought he was a saint. Well, maybe not. Most likely she just thought he was a neuter. He was neither, but how was she supposed to know that?

But alright… he would survive somehow. He had no doubts that she’d sleep like a baby while he would be wide awake all night, but tomorrow was Saturday, so they wouldn’t have to go to work, and maybe he’d have the chance to sleep a little when she was gone again.

She moved swiftly to take the coverlet off the bed and then turned to him when a thought crossed her mind. “Of course, if you want to sit a little longer and talk, that’s fine with me. I just thought we should sort this out.”

He nodded mutely. Then he found his voice again and said – in an attempt to appear unfazed – “Yes, sure. Whatever you say. Um… Personally, I’m not tired yet – I had a lie-in this morning, so if you – er – think you’d like…”

Anything to draw this out a little and avoid the inevitable…

“Right…,” she promptly sat down again and looked at him expectantly. “Let’s sit and chat a bit more before going to bed. But perhaps, you have something – um - better than water?”

He went off with his flashlight, opened the fridge and took out a bottle of red wine. With the power being gone, it wasn’t chilled, but that obviously didn’t matter with red wine.

Wine was a good idea, he thought. One thing was that it would make the conversation easier. And it would help to make them both sleepy, so he might be able to find some rest without having to imagine what could happen if he were more of a lothario.

And indeed, the wine helped to diminish the tension that he felt. They chatted away for a while, and with time, Richard felt more at ease. After a while, there was a pause, and Camille thought that this was perhaps the right moment to tell him about the e-mails she had received. She cleared her throat and said in a light-hearted tone “You know… I have news for you! I told you about the job in Paris…”

Without him realising it, his face fell, and he turned to stone. She was going to leave, and nothing would be the same any more… What would he do without her? His mind was racing, trying to come up with something that would make her stay. He so regretted now that he had never shown her how important she was to him… and now it was too late…

He heard her say “I got an e-mail this morning. Two, to be precise. One from the recruiting department – they thank me again for my application and are sorry to let me know, blah, blah, blah – in brief, the job has been given to someone else. And the second e-mail was from a guy who has trained with me – he e-mailed me to tell me about his new job…”

She laughed. “Isn’t that funny – we always got on well, but were competitors from the start, and this time he has beaten me.”

With her head tilted to one side and a little smile on her lips, she looked at him and said “So, it seems I’ll stay here, after all.”

All he could say was “Oh.” A wave of relief was flooding through him. Without thinking, he beamed at her for a moment. Then he pulled himself together, put on a more neutral face and said “Er – that’s good news to me, but aren’t you disappointed? I mean, you really wanted a change, didn’t you?”

She shrugged. “Well, initially, I was a little disappointed, yes. But then I thought that maybe this is a sign, you know?”

A sign… he rolled his eyes. She noticed and giggled. “No, let me explain… you were saying that if I wanted a change because I felt stalled, then it was one thing, but if I wanted to run away from something, then it wouldn’t work. I have thought about this, and I know now that I have been restless because of… well, different things… and I thought that I could get away from them if I left. The truth is, I’ve been trying to avoid making a decision, and if the job in Paris had materialised, I could have got away without – er – making that decision… consciously, I mean.”

She emptied her glass, set it back on the table and looked him straight into the eyes. “And so, it’s a sign that I must sort this out, and I will. I have made up my mind, I know now what I want, and now it’s only a matter of getting there.”

He wasn’t quite sure what to think of this, so he chose his words carefully and remarked “Well, that does make sense. I hope that you’ll be able to resolve that issue, whatever it is. I’m glad that my – er – advice… not that you’d need advice as in – er ‘advice’, but you know… well, it made you look at things from a different angle.”

He took the last sip of his wine, summoned up all his courage and continued “And well… you know I’m not the over-enthusiastic type, so it might not sound like it - but I’m really, really glad that you’re staying.” He felt the colour rising in his cheeks again – it was a good thing that the light was so dim that she couldn’t see it.

“So am I, Richard, so am I…” she said softly. Then she got up and said “Whatever. I know it might not be perfect etiquette, considering me being the guest, but I’m getting rather tired. If you don’t mind, I’ll get ready now, and then the arena is yours!” She fished for the little make up purse in her handbag and wandered off to the bathroom. At least she had a toothbrush and a few basic necessities with her – it wasn’t much, but better than nothing.

When she came back, Richard had cleared the table and extinguished all candles, except for one. “Do you prefer the left or the right side of the bed?” she asked. “I mean, I don’t want to…”

“Er… yes, sure,” he responded nervously. “If you don’t mind, I’m usually more on the left side, but if you…”

“Oh, come on, Richard – it’s your bed! I’m not going to invade your space and then insist on sleeping on your favourite side of the bed!” She laughed about the flustered expression on his face and sat on the bed. The mattress clearly had seen better days, but it would be comfortable enough.

He watched her wipe off her feet before she slipped between the sheets. Carefully, she pulled out the scrunchy and let her hair fall down. It surrounded her like a halo. He bit his lip – she was so beautiful, and she didn’t even seem to realise it. He watched her tucking in the mosquito net on her side of the bed, admiring the gracefulness of her movements.

She was still wearing the robe, and he understood with some relief that she was not going to sleep naked in his bed. That would have been too much for him, definitely. She smiled at him as she looked up and asked softly “Are you going to grow roots there, Richard?”

He tore himself away from the sight of her being settled comfortably in his bed and mumbled something she couldn’t quite catch before he turned around. Taking the flashlight, he headed towards the bathroom.

Oh dear, what had he got himself into there… That was the only thing he could think of as he was following his usual night routine. Finally, he washed his face and changed into his pyjamas. Fortunately, he had remembered to take out his last set of fresh nightwear before going to the bathroom… He only had three sets, and by the end of the week he was usually through them. Normally, he would have worn the ‘old’ one for another night, but given the fact that Camille was here, he didn’t want to wear a crumpled, sweaty pyjama. Silly, but anyway…

Very briefly, he had considered wearing something more ‘flattering’, like boxers and a T-shirt (although he wasn’t sure if that looked really more flattering… but at least it wouldn’t look so hopelessly old-fashioned), but the few T-shirts he had all were in the laundry bin, otherwise he could have offered her one of those to wear, instead of the robe. However… Come to think about it, a simple white T-shirt would have been a little too transparent – at least the robe didn’t reveal more than it hid. He felt his face starting to burn again as he remembered how he had seen her earlier today… and the feelings that had nearly overwhelmed him then.

And then he thought a little defiantly that it was _his_ house and _his_ bed, and so he would wear _his_ pyjamas – full stop. At least they were freshly laundered.

If she didn’t like it – why would he care? This was not a fashion show. She had seen him in his night attire before, so it wouldn’t be a novelty.

Plus, it was dark, anyway. That should make everything easier…

He took the flashlight off the hook and made ready to leave the bathroom as his eyes fell on the blouse hanging in the shower cabin. He touched it at the seams and felt that it was still rather wet. Hopefully, it would dry overnight. Wait, what was this? He lifted the flashlight to take a closer look at the other wet garments that were hanging in there.

Her camisole, turned inside out – ah, and apparently that extra material hanging down from the straps was a ‘built-in’ bustier… how clever! - and what was that? White, lacy and hardly more than a touch of a garment… Her knickers?! Holy cow!

Richard’s knowledge of female underwear was limited, but he knew knickers when he saw them!

If they were hanging here, she obviously couldn’t wear them presently and hadn’t been wearing them all evening… He closed his eyes in despair – this woman was going to be the death of him.

***********

Camille had made herself more at home in the meantime. The candle on the table on the other side of the room didn’t give much light, but it was good enough for her. With the noise that the wind was making, she couldn’t hear Richard coming – so she was startled when he suddenly blew out the last remaining candle and they were left with the gleam of his flashlight. He was wearing pyjamas that Camille had seen him in a couple of times already when she had come a little too early to pick him up in the mornings. How young and innocent he looked – like a schoolboy getting ready for bed! Only the teddy bear was missing… but maybe he had hidden it somewhere?

Now he sat on the bed, and the flashlight went out. She felt the sheets getting lifted, and there he was, in the same bed… but miles away, as it seemed, at the far end of the mattress. He fixed the mosquito net on his side and moved a little closer to ease up the sheets.

Awkwardly he asked “Are you okay, Camille?” “Yes, thank you…” They wished each other a good night and turned so they were lying back to back. She couldn’t suppress a grin – well, it was dark, anyway, so nobody could see...

Good old Richard – this wasn’t easy for him… having an invader in his monastic cell!

Well… he would survive.

**************

Despite the strong gales outside and the occasional rain splashing down on the tin roof – the combination of both was nothing against his inner turmoil, though! - Richard finally managed to calm down a little. He was acutely aware of Camille’s presence, and once again he wished he were less of a thinking man – then he wouldn’t let this chance slip by, but rather enjoy the moment and maybe get a taste of happiness for once. And sod the consequences…

He smiled ruefully in the dark – he knew only too well that this was wishful thinking - he wasn’t the type who’d act that way. Ever. Not only was he scared because he couldn’t gauge her reaction to any ‘attempt’ he might make. He wouldn’t even be sure about how to approach her. In his fantasies, the initial approach never was an issue, anyway – there, this potentially awkward stage conveniently got skipped, and they were right there… _in medias res_ , so-to-speak.

In any case, Camille surely knew that he wouldn’t touch her – otherwise, she wouldn’t have stretched out next to him without a care. He couldn’t quite decide if he found that flattering, depressing, or humiliating. But what difference did it make? It didn’t really matter, anyway, did it!

For a moment, he wondered what it would be like if she fancied him, too. But it was a waste of time to dwell on that, wasn’t it…

Eventually, his thoughts got more random, he relaxed, and sleep came to him…

*************

Camille woke up in the middle of the night. Good that the flashlight was next to the bed – she grabbed it, got up and tiptoed to the bathroom. The storm was still raging. When she returned to bed, she saw the outline of Richard’s body under the sheets, and as she switched off the flashlight and put it down, she remembered the morning she had secretly watched him changing his shirt.

She also thought of the evening when she had come here and talked to him on the beach, and how he had very briefly held her hand. She remembered how she had felt when he had grabbed her arms to steady her and how she had wished just for an instant that he’d find the courage to pull her towards him. Then she recalled his gaze from earlier when they had stood in his kitchenette, all soaked… The way he had looked at her… and then closed his eyes… And how he had beamed at her when she had told him she would not go to Paris… a rare moment of unveiled relief - his eyes had betrayed him.

She felt a wave of tenderness and desire rising up, along with a tingle on her skin, and took a deep breath. He would never make a move. He was a decent man with principles, she knew that much. Most likely he wouldn’t even admit to himself what he felt. He’d try to ignore it and hope it would go away…

But she wouldn’t let him do that to them - she knew now how to take action…

With a determined little smile, she let the robe fall down to the foot of the bed, got rid of the boxers, lifted the mosquito net, and slipped under the sheets again.

**************

Richard was drifting between being asleep and being awake. He had been startled by a noise, but it hadn’t been loud enough to wake him up. Might have been the storm, anyway… He rolled on his back and dozed off again. It was hot, and he wished the wind would stop howling and swishing. Then he was in dreamland again…

It was an unusually vivid dream… He felt a hand sliding over his chest. Suddenly, the buttons of his pyjama seemed to fall off, one by one – how did that happen? Magic? - and he felt the hand again, on his bare skin now, stroking him lightly, roaming over his stomach. This felt good! But then it was gone again…

He exhaled softly and felt slightly disappointed. Oh, what was that? There was the hand again… and… something else. In his blurred state, he couldn’t quite figure out at first what it was. But it felt… oh, so good! Could that be… lips? Smooth and tender on his skin… Following the hand. Oh wow… And there was a trail of long, silken tresses… he felt a sudden and intense surge of arousal and let out an enraptured sigh… what a fantastic dream…

Just when the hand reached the waistband of his pyjama trousers, his eyes opened and almost popped out of his head. In shock, he realised that it wasn’t a dream after all. This was – good grief!

He grabbed Camille’s hand and stopped her from exploring further.

Camille had been prepared for that – when his breathing had changed, she had known she’d only have a few more seconds. She waited for him to speak. Eventually, he found his voice – it was brittle and raspy.

“Camille… this is… please!”

“Please, yes – or please, no?” she asked softly. Her head was still hovering over his stomach. He could feel her breath on his skin. He shut his eyes again in frustration, struggling for self-control.

“Please… no. You know that I… We shouldn’t… I would never… er… take advantage… of the situation… and…”

His voice trailed off – he couldn’t focus on what he had wanted to say any more. His eyes opened again, he couldn’t move – he was trapped and paralysed in this strange mix of confusion, perplexity and longing…

Her body shifted, and he felt her hair sliding over his torso, up to his chest. When she spoke, he realised that she obviously was facing him. It was pitch-dark, the wind was howling, so he had to rely on all his senses to focus on what she said now…

He heard the smile in her alluring voice as she said softly “Well, Richard, that’s very chivalrous… but actually, you wouldn’t take advantage…”

He couldn’t believe his ears. “I – I wouldn’t?” he stuttered, feeling like he was lost in a maze.

She whispered “No, you wouldn’t,” and her lips touched his neck. He felt his skin prickle – this was thrilling and terrifying at the same time. Oh mercy – what was happening here?

“What… what are you doing?” he almost shrieked.

“I’m kissing you. Doesn’t it feel good?” she asked seductively. Her lips caressed his earlobe now, and he felt her nibbling teeth, then her hot breath, sending shivers through his body. This was torture! He swallowed hard, trying to fight off the desire to pull her towards him and kiss her senseless. He couldn’t… they really shouldn’t…

“And I can make you feel even better…. Don’t be afraid… and don’t run away from me any more – you’ve been doing that for way too long…” She paused and then added “And don’t say you don’t want me. I’ve seen it in your eyes… and I can feel it now… – and I want you, too…”

She waited, a little anxious now. He hadn’t pushed her away, and she knew that he had enjoyed her caresses – that had only been too obvious, despite the darkness. With a thrill, she had felt his arousal, and she was determined not to waste this opportunity. He was the man she wanted – and he was almost naked and entirely defenceless at the moment. No suit, no shirt, no tie to protect him… and he clearly wanted her, too… although he obviously tried to rein in his lust. He didn’t realise yet that resistance was futile… she was resolved to succeed…

He wasn’t sure what to say, what to do – this was a completely unexpected development. This didn’t happen in real life – or did it? Well, if it did, then it had at least never happened to him. This ravishingly beautiful woman – Camille! – that he had secretly been longing to touch and hold in his arms was in his bed – that in itself was unlikely enough – she wore nothing but her skin, and she told him she wanted him… that had to be an illusion. Or a cruel hoax. Or pity.

But Camille didn’t vanish, and she didn’t laugh at him, either. She sounded totally sincere and genuine, her voice was enticing, not full of pity or falseness… Could he trust her? What… what if this was for real, and she meant it? Wasn’t this what he had secretly wished for? Wouldn’t it be wrong to let this chance go by? Hadn’t he wished she’d fancy him? She wouldn’t do this if she didn’t think it was worth it… that he was worth it… how could he possibly reject her if she was so straightforward about her own desire? He couldn’t – he knew he couldn’t… he wanted her too much… and he didn’t only want to dream any more… although – maybe, he should…

But no, he wanted to feel her, he wanted to hold and touch her… he couldn’t turn this down… She had openly said that she… so… oh, and her hands on his skin were so tender, her voice was so sweet, so persuasive, so seductive…

But what was he supposed to do now? True… he couldn’t possibly deny it – he wanted her, but… what did she expect? He was no playboy with lots of experience. He felt a bout of panic welling up. He was not completely clueless, but it had been a while, and what if… Without realising it, he sighed again…

Camille sensed his conflicting feelings and the paralysing insecurity. Well, he hadn’t said no or shoved her off, but he clearly needed some encouragement!

So, she gently slid a leg over his hips and around his thighs and shifted a little so she was more comfortable, then she continued to kiss his neck and his face. She tormented him with tantalising small kisses, light as feathers; at the same time, she wriggled her hand out of his loosening grip and trailed her fingers over his torso again, along his flank. His skin was smooth, and she was aware of his reaction to her touch as he let out a little moan. When her hand reached the elastic waistband of his pyjama trousers and dipped beneath he gasped…

For an instant, she wondered how much longer he would be able to resist – and then she felt him grabbing her eagerly and manoeuvering her on her back. His lips finally found hers, and he kissed her – ferociously at first, then – when he felt her responding - with a little more restraint, as if he wanted to prolong the pleasure that way. There was nothing shy or hesitant about his kiss – and it was absolutely clear that he wanted more than that and wasn’t going to back out. Fiercely, she put her arms around him and pulled him closer.

His lips were soft and tender, yet he was overall more confident than she had expected, and even if she had wanted to - she found herself unable to resist – within a split second her lips came apart, and she felt his tongue exploring her lips and then the inside of her mouth – gingerly, but determinedly. She reacted instinctively, and she heard him inhale sharply as their tongues met and began to dance with one another more and more passionately.

With one arm he was holding her, his other hand was beginning to caress and wander over her body – slowly, lovingly, thoroughly… as if he wanted to feel every single inch of her, every curve, every hollow. Oh, this was wonderful… his hand was tender and gentle, and she was shivering with anticipation and excitement. She had waited for this to happen for so, so long – and it was even better than anything she could have imagined.

Eventually, his lips followed his hand and burnt their way down to her breast – she gasped his name in delight when she felt his tongue twirling around her swelling nipple, and she arched her back to force it into his mouth. He didn’t let her down – he was more than willing to please her. Being his usual thorough self, he took care of her other breast as well, and she let out a muffled cry.

After a little while, his mouth returned to her neck, up to her ear. “You… you little witch,” he whispered. His voice was hoarse and a little shaky, his breath was ragged. She laughed joyously and took his hand that was resting lightly on her hip, as if he wasn’t sure if she wanted him to proceed further. Slowly, but determinedly, she guided his hand to where she needed him most now, and he was happy to oblige and get more familiar with her body. As he gently touched her, her laugh turned into a gasp and then a long, pleasured moan… The throaty sound of her voice filled him with a mix of pride and amazement – could it really be that it was him who evoked these spectacular reactions?

But then, he didn’t waste time on thinking any more… It was as if the darkness had a disinhibiting, almost liberating effect on him – he touched her, kissed her, caressed her as if there was no tomorrow. He couldn’t get enough of her – his kisses got deeper and more demanding, his hands and lips travelled over her body… He became more and more confident about this as her soft moans and sighs showed him how to please her.

Camille relished his fervour – and responded in kind. His breath hitched when her hands and mouth explored his body and her lips came close to where her hand had been when he had interrupted her a little while ago. He didn’t stop her now, though…

Before too long, they found his pyjama trousers a little too restrictive and got rid of them… Richard sighed when he pulled her close to feel the length of her body pressed against his, and Camille wrapped her legs around him, drawing him closer until he finally was exactly where she wanted him to be, purring and whispering tender words of love and encouragement in his ear as he began to move, slowly at first, then with increasing tempo. She used an exhilarating mix of French and English for spurring him on, but he didn’t need any further explanations, he understood - and his body responded instinctively.

The wind was still howling outside, but they didn’t hear it. They didn’t notice the swishing and rustling of the palm fronds, either. Their world was Richard’s little shack, and what was outside didn’t matter.

There was something surreal, almost psychedelic, about making love in the darkness. Camille felt that all her senses were heightened – her skin was more sensitive, the whispers and sighs had more meaning, and the distinctive subtle scent of this invisible man who was holding, caressing and loving her increased her euphoria.

And so it was just natural that the waves of release that finally washed over her were different from anything she had experienced before. She was floating in a sea of pure ecstasy, the waves were carrying her, then splashing over her, swelling, then retreating again… she was drowning, then another wave came… high… higher… She didn’t realise that she was holding on to him, calling out his name – the final wave carried her away, far out, together with him…

Breathlessly, she heard him gasping as he reached his finish shortly afterwards, and then she held him in her arms as he collapsed weightlessly on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Gigai_Gurl - here's the *BOOM CHIKA WOWW WOWWWWW* you've asked for. I hope you're not disappointed.


	13. In the Light of Day

Some time during the night, the strong wind dwindled, and when the new day dawned, it had died down. It was quiet when Richard woke up, except for the sound of the waves lapping on the beach. The shutters let in the first light of the morning, and the hands of the little alarm clock on his nightstand showed him that it was close to 6 a.m. Had it been an ordinary workday, he’d have to get up now. But it wasn’t a workday, and nothing was ordinary any more…

He got up, anyway, put on the pyjama trousers that lay crumpled at the foot of the bed and padded to the bathroom. A look into the mirror showed him that he still looked the same – that surprised him a little. Against all reason, he had almost expected that he had visibly changed. This night had been out of this world. He hadn’t felt so alive in ages… and it seemed strange that this didn’t show on his face.

A few minutes later, he opened the shutters a little so that – hopefully – some fresh air would get into the shack. It had been a hot night. In more ways than one…

What had they done?

He would have been inclined to think it had been an unusually wild and unsettling fantasy, caused by the intense forces of nature confusing his mind – hadn’t he seen and felt Camille by his side as he had woken up, that would have been his best explanation for what he felt at the moment. So, it must have been real… against all odds.

Richard quietly opened the door to the veranda and stood at the balustrade, looking out on the sea. He had done that many times before… but this time it felt different.

In the twilight, he saw that there were heaps of Sargasso seaweed on the beach – the storm had brought them, apparently. The Roast Beef was still tied up and sat in its usual place. The air seemed a little fresher than yesterday – but maybe that was only wishful thinking. In any case, Richard knew that it would heat up and get humid again very quickly. It always did.

His mind wandered back to the miracle of last night. He was totally bowled over by what had happened. It had been… he failed to find a word for it. She had literally taken him by surprise… and it had been blissful for him. He had never experienced anything like that before. Not that he was very experienced to begin with, but this – this had been beyond everything he could have imagined. She had made him more than just ‘happy’… it had been pure ecstasy for him.

He recalled the words she had whispered in his ear… about how there was no reason for being afraid, about how he shouldn’t run away from her… and he realised that she had been right – he had been running away from her for so long… and still, she had always come back to haunt him. She had never left him alone. She had always been in his thoughts and in his heart. It had been impossible to get away from her.

Without him fully realising it, the small piece of advice he had given her the other day had applied to him as well. You couldn’t run away…

The fears that had initially prevailed when she had approached him sprang to his mind. How pointless they had been in the end… Once he had surrendered to her, he hadn’t had the time for being afraid of failing - she had made him forget his doubts. The darkness had taken away all his inhibitions – he had felt free to do whatever pleasured him – and her. It had meant the world to him to finally hold, kiss and touch her - surprisingly, it hadn’t scared him once he had overcome his initial hesitancy. And more than anything in the world he had wanted to bring her fulfilment and show her how much he cared… and whatever would happen later on – nobody could take this away from them.

What an unforgettable gift she had offered him… - and amazingly enough, he had no regrets for having accepted it. He just hoped that she didn’t have regrets by now for having offered it…

It felt strange that he didn’t worry or panic – after all, he had been a worrywart for all his life, and he had never been known for being impulsive or spontaneous. It seemed odd and almost out of character that he wasn’t confused or scared now, trying to figure out what the consequences of their actions would be. But now, he just felt peaceful - everything had been so natural between them, and as far as he could judge, he hadn’t made a botch of it.

But what did he know?

Had he made her happy? He wanted to believe that he had not disappointed her. The way her body had melted into his, the passionate kisses, the sounds of pleasure she had made, the rapture in her voice when she had breathed his name – that could only mean she had enjoyed it, too… at least he hoped so.

He remembered how she had held him in her arms afterwards, softly humming a word- and nameless melody and gently stroking his shoulders. He had felt sheltered and completely safe with her.

That was the last thing he could recall… he felt a little guilty for falling asleep immediately, but that couldn’t be helped any more now. If she gave him another chance, he’d try to make up for that lapse…

Another chance… would there be a next time? He frowned as he pondered the question.

He wanted to believe that there was a future for them after this. He wanted to believe that she was serious about this… about him… about a relationship. About… well, about love. He didn’t dare to _think_ , let alone _say_ the word, but this was really what he wanted. Love… not just sex.

No matter how hard he tried to stifle them - anxiety and insecurity crept up, gone was the peaceful feeling… – but then again, it had only been a matter of time until a familiar nagging little voice in his head would begin to ask questions that he couldn’t answer at this point.

What would it be like now, in the morning? What would she say? Where would they go from here?

Had their first time also been their last time? Would she still want him in the daylight? Or would she give him a polite knock-back if he tried to get near her again and leave, disappointed and frustrated?

Had it perhaps all been a terrible mistake – despite the deep contentedness and fulfillment that he had been feeling?

There was only one way to find out. He took a deep breath, turned around to go back inside, leaving the door ajar to let in a little light.

***********

Camille had woken up when he had opened the veranda door. She had slept like a log, her body felt heavy, almost leaden, and very, very relaxed…

With her eyes closed she had cuddled down into the pillow. Her hand had slid over the sheets, and she had noticed that she was alone in bed… as always… but wait – this was not her bed… Slowly, she had taken in the scent of the sheets, felt the unfamiliar sponginess of the mattress…

It had taken her a moment to understand where she was. Then the memory of what had happened had come back in a flash, and she suddenly had felt how her face began to burn when she had recalled the events of last night. She had done something completely scandalous – she had seduced this decent, strangely innocent man… shamelessly and brazenly… like a loose woman… and his reaction had not only been ‘satisfactory’ or ‘gratifying’… it had been decidedly enthusiastic, once he had given up on his resistance and lost his fear.

What did he think of her now? Did he blame her for tearing down his fences? Would he be uncomfortable about her being in his bed, naked and unashamed? What would he say? Would he be all buttoned-up, embarrassed of what had happened between them? Did he regret that they had spent this night together and made love?

She certainly didn’t – this had been more wonderful and fulfilling than anything she had ever experienced before. Incredible. Beyond words… She hoped that it had been like that for him, too. He had been so uninhibited, so passionate and ardent. The way he had held her, touched her, kissed her… and all the whispered words of endearment and adoration, the little moans, the gasps, the way he had sighed her name… That all could only mean that she had made him happy.

And the most miraculous thing had happened - he had fallen asleep in her arms. It had touched her deeply that he had trusted her enough to just let go and relax.

In any case, it had definitely turned out that her mother had been wrong. He was not cold as fish. Not at all. Actually, quite the opposite…

She didn’t have to wonder about his feelings for much longer. He came back to bed, turned to her and whispered her name, lightly touching her shoulder with his hand. She opened her eyes, looking straight into his. “Good morning,” he said quietly, smiling a little diffidently. “And a very good morning to you, too,” she replied with a twinkle.

He seemed worried. “What is it?” she asked, slightly alarmed. Was he getting cold feet already? Would he tell her now that it had all been a mistake?

“It’s just… I don’t think I have coffee – er - in the house. For – er – breakfast. That is… if – if you – er – fancy having breakfast… here, I mean… with me. Would you terribly mind having tea?” he asked. Camille looked at him incredulously and then began to laugh. “What’s so funny?” he asked, a little taken aback. “Oh, nothing… just that I was worrying you’d chuck me out of your bed… and you ask me about coffee!”

She couldn’t stop laughing – mostly because she was so relieved. Slightly more confident now, he gave her his famous lopsided smile, raised his eyebrows and said a little haltingly “Well, you know… after I haven’t really behaved very – um - gentlemanly last night, I figured I should at least try to impress you with an exquisite breakfast, but it seems I’m going to fail miserably there as well.”

Camille sensed that he was insecure and worried about how she was feeling about last night. She realised he was a little embarrassed, and it touched her to see how he was attempting to cover up his lack of confidence. Was he trying to figure out if she was disappointed? Well, she certainly wasn’t. And she wanted more. She wanted to feel him again. Now.

Her laughter subsided. She lifted one hand and curled it around his neck, pulling him towards her, and said in a low, seductive voice “You know what, I think I can survive without coffee. Just about. But only if you make it up to me by – er – forgetting your good manners again and…” With this, her other hand slipped into his pyjama trousers, gently caressing the small of his back and playfully tugging at the elastic waistband.

His eyes lit up, and he blushed a little. However, for a moment he hesitated - then he asked haltingly “Would you rather… I mean… do you want me to close the door before…”

She shook her head and whispered “No… I want to see you…”

“Are you… are you sure?”

“Absolutely… if it’s okay with you?”

After that, he didn’t need any additional encouragement.

He had been uninhibited in the darkness, but it turned out now that the daylight didn’t dampen his enthusiasm. His stubble made her skin prickle when he kissed her, and she flinched a little when he stroked her flanks. She closed her eyes for a moment in elation and surrendered to his hands and his lips, feeling light-headed with desire - and realising his arousal.

Suddenly, he moved away for an instant, but before she could complain, he was back again. When he returned to her, his pyjama trousers were gone; she felt his hand stroking her thigh, gently bending her leg, lifting it a little - and then… he was there...

“Camille…” he whispered. She opened her eyes widely and saw him smiling at her – shyly, but with unveiled tenderness. She bit her lip when he started to move, still looking at her face intently, trying to register every little movement, every little change in her expression, trying to make sure he gave her what she needed. It was impossible for her to take her eyes off his face – she was mesmerised by the striking combination of concentration and ardent passion in his features. The bliss that he felt was written all over his face… and knowing that it was all about her – that was almost too much for her. She hoped he could see that she felt the same way about this…

Although his movements were controlled and initially almost slow, she couldn’t have wished for more tenderness or fervour – and she made every effort to give it all back to him and make him feel just as cherished and… yes, loved. Her hands caressed his back, his flanks, his face; she moved in sync with him to increase their ecstasy, and the sound of her happy sighs filled the air. Never had she imagined it could be like this with him… so natural, so intense, so blissful!

Richard took his time and moved unhurriedly, but steadily, gradually increasing his tempo… until she was on the verge of losing herself – and there she was, tipping over and pulling him with her into a bottomless black hole. Her eyes closed as she moaned with delight, and a few moments later, she felt him burying his head in her neck, breathing heavily.

When they both had returned to earth and could breathe again normally, Camille snuggled up to him, resting her hand on his chest. Although this time had been more ‘quiet’, it hadn’t been any less passionate.

She felt completely at peace with herself, with the world, with everything. She dozed off, and he held her in his arms, marveling at what had just had happened between them. Last night had been wild, crazy, turbulent… almost explosive – he understood that it had been the darkness that had enabled them both to let go. This time, though, they had both wanted something different.

Initially, it had felt a little strange to leave the veranda door open, but actually, he had been glad she hadn’t wanted him to close it completely. He had felt vulnerable, and he had been afraid of revealing more than she might want to see – but he had needed to see her – he had wanted to know what she’d look like in her ecstasy... and how she’d look at him.

And it had been magic how their eyes had locked, how she had showed him how she felt… It amazed him to think that he could give rise to such passion. And the tenderness in her eyes… He had felt truly cherished – a very unfamiliar feeling, to be honest.

Well, he didn’t complain, but he wondered once again… where would they go from here? He stroked her hair and listened to her rhythmic breathing until he, too, fell asleep.

*************

The next thing she said – after she had woken up and kissed him – sounded a little alarming.

It was “My mother is going to kill me.”

He wasn’t particularly keen on discussing Catherine’s feelings at this point, but understood that she needed to talk about it, so he gave her an inquiring glance. “We have been a bit at odds with one another lately,” she explained. “She wasn’t happy with how I refused to have more blind dates, and you know what I told you about the ‘settling down and having a family’ thing. I doubt she’d be impressed to learn that I have run off with you for – er – ‘ _faire l'amour_ ’ in your shack. Not that I’m going to tell her, mind you…”

He was relieved. He didn’t really feel ready to deal with Catherine. Not at this point. This was none of her business, anyway. Camille was old enough to run her own life, she was an independent woman, and this was between her and him. Much to his relief (and against all odds, he thought), she hadn’t backed out. She still was here with him, and she made no move to run away from him. Quite the opposite, actually… it seemed that she intended to stay for a while. He must have done something right then…

“She will find out, sooner or later,” Camille said now. Relieved, she noticed that he didn’t panic at her words – she was hesitant to bring up the idea of a ‘future’, but she wanted him to know that she was serious about this, that this wasn’t a fling she’d instigated just for fun.

“I haven’t had any… - er – relationships since I returned from France, and well… if my lips look as swollen as they currently feel from all the things we did, then I figure it will only take her one glance, and she’ll know that something’s going on.” He took a closer look at her and remarked “You look fine. Are you sure that your lips are swollen?” She smiled invitingly. “You’re the Inspector. Want to find out?”

He ‘investigated’ for a while before they broke apart. Eventually, she continued to speak “As for Maman… You know, I don’t want to be sneaky, but this is my life, and I definitely don’t want her to lecture me about how she didn’t bring me up to act like a hussy and so on.”

She ran her fingers through the patch of hair on his chest and said thoughtfully “She’s funny with all that. I mean, I know that she wants the best for me, and I really, really appreciate that. I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t want to lie to her, either. And if she asks me straight out, I will have to tell her the truth, but I’m not going to volunteer any information. At least not right now. I’m not so sure how to handle it in the future, but for now… I’d rather… you know…”

She paused. He waited. Then he asked “You’re not ashamed, are you?”

She sensed the slight hurt in his voice and quickly shook her head as she looked at him. “No. No, I’m not. Why would I? Honestly, I’ve wanted this for a long time – without really knowing just how much I wanted it – and once I knew I just was too chicken-hearted to admit it and make a move. You… I mean… this is what I have been trying to run away from. I didn’t know for sure how you feel about me, and then I figured that even if you had feelings for me, there are the non-fraternisation rules and all that rubbish, so… It all fell into place yesterday night, though… when I saw the way you looked at me. Oh, don’t worry about the rules. I’m sure the Commissioner won’t give a… well, you know. He’s rather relaxed about these things as long as the work gets done. But no, I’m not embarrassed or ashamed. I’m happy. And I want people to know - eventually. I just don’t want everybody to wiggle their eyebrows and ask me when we’ll get ‘serious’ and all that…”

“Well, I can see what you mean,” he said. “The constant surveillance here can be a bit… challenging. I’m not keen on being under observation, either. And I’m definitely not ready to face your mother’s disapproval – no matter what I’ll do, it will take her a while to get used to the idea of me being – er – together with her daughter. That is… if this is what you want…”

Camille laughed. “Of course that’s what I want – isn’t that fairly obvious? And if you marry me and I pop out a baby nine months later, she’ll forgive you,” she said. The shocked look on his face made her giggle. “No worries – that’s not on the agenda,” she hastened to add. “Not yet, at least. And on that topic, I’m – er…”

She didn’t quite know how to approach the subject, then she had an inspiration and reached over to retrieve her handbag that was sitting next to the bed. She took out a blister strip with pills and showed it to him. “I’ve always been a little irregular with my cycle, so… this is what my doctor came up with. Keeps me – er – on track.”

She hoped he’d understand – she felt he should know that she was not trying to trap him into something he wasn’t ready for. And dealing with this detail was his business now, wasn’t it!

He felt the colour rising in his cheeks and avoided her gaze for a moment, obviously slightly embarrassed. Then he said softly “I wish I had thought of that before… but I couldn’t really ask you, in the heat of – er – the moment… and you seemed so determined to – well, you know. I think I just kind of assumed in the back of my head that you had – er – taken care of that. Not that I had – er – time to think consciously…”

She smiled at him and said provocatively “Mind you, now that you’re saying it – you did seem a little headless and not as controlled as you normally are…”

He wanted to retort, but then saw the gleam in her eyes. She was winding him up again. Well, he would have to get used to that, he figured. Yes, he had been right to wonder yesterday what he had got himself into with all that… But all in all, he had no reason to complain.

So, he just turned to kiss her once more, and after he had finally torn himself away from her, he jumped out of bed and announced that they’d have breakfast now.

With tea.

**************

It turned out to be a beautiful day. The sun was out, and the washhouse atmosphere of the past few days was over. Richard knew, though, that it would come back eventually – it always did during hurricane season. Somehow, that didn’t seem to be so terrifying any more, though.

He let the past 24 hours pass by in review, and he understood now what all the corny songs about a moment changing your life were about. He had always thought that was rubbish. Well, it wasn’t, after all. Still, he was a bit worried about what that change would imply. But it was pointless to try and predict the future, so for once, he decided to ignore the worries and just enjoy what he had in this moment. It would be difficult enough for him to adjust to the new situation – and most likely for her, too! - but he figured it would be well worth the effort.

Camille had left – but not without promising to be back as soon as she could. That could be tonight or tomorrow, but she’d be back. He chuckled as he remembered how she had shown up at the breakfast table – in her camisole and a pair of his boxers. She had confessed that she had ‘stolen’ them from the basket in his bathroom and worn them for most of the night – and he had been speechless for a moment. He knew he would find it hard to wear these boxers again without thinking of last night – but then again – that wasn’t so bad… not that he needed a reminder!

Fortunately, the electricity had come back, so they could have toast – Camille had nagged a little that she would have preferred croissants, but alas, you couldn’t have it all… she didn’t want to be ungrateful, considering the recent development of the situation between her and Richard.

After breakfast, she had checked her phone, and much to her relief, it had worked again. She had decided not to text her mother, instead she just wanted to show up at home and take it from there. They had agreed on keeping quiet about their new relationship at least for the moment – until it seemed safe to come out in the open.

Neither of them was very happy with this, but they both felt that the Saint Marie grapevine should rather live on fodder that wasn’t related to them. They were both grown-up people, as Camille emphasised once more (a remark that made Richard raise his eyebrows), and they would have to find their feet in this new situation – it wouldn’t help to have everyone watching them.

Richard decided to take it easy and spend the day at home, getting on with the necessary weekend activities. Unfortunately, part of that was also trying to get the sand out of the house and finding out if the storm had caused any severe damage to the shack that needed to get fixed… he sighed. Ah well, he’d better get started on that – the earlier he began, the earlier he’d be done. And the earlier he could sit down with a good book – or better yet – daydream about Camille’s next visit!


	14. Unexpected Developments

Camille managed to get into the house without getting interrogated. She found a note on her fridge, saying that Catherine would spend Friday evening away from home – Camille heaved a sigh of relief. This meant that – with a little luck - her mother might not have noticed her absence – depending on when she had returned home, she had most likely simply gone straight to bed and assumed that Camille was in her part of the house, fast asleep…

Catherine was away now, too. Camille figured that she was at La Kaz, finding out if there was any damage. So, it wasn’t a problem to get changed into fresh clothes and saunter off to the bar afterwards.

Indeed, Catherine was at the bar to see if the storm had damaged any of the furniture or hit the building. When Camille arrived, she was just investigating one of the shutters that seemed to be badly battered – it had already been hit by the last storm and was now somewhat loose in the hinges, so it would have to get fixed.

And this was only one thing that had got damaged – apparently, some bins, potted plants and other items from the neighbourhood had been blown over the place and crashed into the bar’s side walls, so there were some bad scratchmarks, and Camille could see that her mother wasn’t happy about the unexpected expense and the hassle it would mean to have things repaired.

So, Catherine was pre-occupied, and she didn’t notice any significant changes in her daughter. It seemed to her that Camille was more balanced today, but then that was her usual reaction when a storm was over – she always was under the weather while a storm was brewing, but once it had hit, she was her usual self again. Hopefully, their slightly scarred relationship would benefit from that, too!

“Are you going to help out tonight?” Catherine asked and added “I think it might get rather busy now that the storm is over.”

Camille wasn’t too excited – she would have liked to spend the evening with Richard. But then again – she had already let him know that she wasn’t sure when she could come to see him again, so perhaps he wouldn’t mind terribly much to have some time to himself. And she didn’t want to overwhelm him – or herself - rightaway. It still was all so new, and they both needed time to get used to the idea of being ‘an item’. She felt a little bad for deceiving her mother – but she and Richard had a right to privacy, and if her mother knew about them, they wouldn’t have any peace.

So she agreed and helped Catherine to tidy up the place and look out for more damages. Eventually, they had the opportunity to sit down at a table, have something to drink and chat a little.

Fortunately, Camille managed to distract her mother from asking too many questions about why she hadn’t been home from work around the usual time by telling her about the e-mails that she had received – and Catherine was so happy about the news that Camille would stay on Saint Marie that she didn’t ask for more details about where and with whom she had been during the time of the storm.

Although, when Camille added she’d stay on the island ‘for now’, Catherine realised that nothing was set in stone, and her daughter had perhaps not completely given up on getting a change of scenery.

But ‘for now’ was a good start… and maybe Camille would realise that life on Saint Marie wasn’t so bad after all when her mother left her in peace and didn’t try matching her up with possible suitors any more… By the same token, Camille was so relieved that her mother didn’t ask any further that she didn’t notice how Catherine avoided talking about where _she_ had been…

Only later, she realised that her mother hadn’t mentioned it at all – but well, it wasn’t so important after all, was it. And she decided not to ask – the more she asked, the more her mother would feel that she had the right to ask undesirable questions, too…

However, it didn’t take Camille long to understand that it would perhaps be harder to keep her mother out of the whole thing than she had originally expected. When she went to see Richard on Sunday, she had to come up with the ‘I’m going to the beach’ excuse, and she really felt bad about it. So, she and Richard had to discuss the topic once again, and although he really wasn’t happy with it, he understood that it was important to her – and he certainly didn’t want to estrange her from her mother.

“But I don’t want to be the hot topic of Saint Marie’s gossip, either,” he said. “Really, Camille, there has to be a way to avoid the grapevine… can’t you just talk to your mother in a while and sort it out that way? I mean… not straightaway… It’s not that… Oh well, it’s still all so fresh, and… I’m okay with her knowing eventually, but I don’t want it to be drawn out over the island.”

He still wasn’t keen on seeing eye to eye with Catherine on that matter and secretly hoped he could get out of it this way.

“I thought you are close… I mean, can’t you explain that you want to see how things develop and have a little peace before – er – settling down with me…” He blushed. It had only been the night before last that they had made love for the first time, and he was talking about settling down already! Wasn’t that a bit too rash – for both of them? Was he overwhelming her and taking something for granted she wasn’t ready for yet? Was he sure this was what he wanted at all? Shouldn’t he think about it all more thoroughly? But it felt right – that was the strange thing.

He added hastily “That is… if that’s what you want, of course.” She laughed and said softly “No, no – if that’s what both of us want, Richard! I know that I want this to last, and I hope you see it the same way, but I totally agree with you - how are we supposed to know if it’s the way to go if we can’t be in peace and see each other without a million of nosey people around us who comment on every step we take?”

They both fell silent and pondered different possibilities. It was hard to reveal their situation to Catherine without having her tell everyone else… Finally, Richard said “Mind you… can’t we just keep quiet for a while and see what the next few days will bring? Depending on how the general situation develops, we can make a decision, also about the Commissioner. In the meantime, we just have to be – um – careful, keep a low profile and try not to be too obvious.”

Then he looked at her and asked a little shyly “By the way, Camille… Did you – er - only come to talk, or… well, er…” She smiled mischeviously, took his hand and said “I thought you’d never ask. I think we’ve talked enough for the moment, so we should perhaps go inside. Unless, of course, you want to have wild sex in the surf…” His eyebrows went up and he said indignantly “Really, Camille – in the _sand_? And in broad daylight? I really don’t think so!” He sounded very English. She laughed, and they disappeared together in the little beach house.

****************

When Camille came home from her ‘afternoon on the beach’, it was already rather late. Catherine would have been at the bar under normal circumstances, but tonight, she had handed over business to Billy and his girlfriend Alex who had been helping her out on and off over the past season already. They knew what they had to do, and she wanted to be at home when Camille came back. Her daughter was more important than running the bar, and she wanted to show her that she cared about her.

She hadn’t saved dinner for her, though, as she had seen that Camille had packed fruit and snacks, so she had assumed that she would have a little picnic, and dinner together wouldn’t happen. So, she just came to her door when she heard Camille enter the house to ask if she had had a nice time.

She found Camille happily humming to herself as she unlocked her door and was pleased to see that her daughter had regained her equilibrium. Definitely, the storm had taken away her edginess.

“Hello darling – how was the beach?” she asked. Camille looked up and said a little vaguely, but clearly in a good mood “Oh, good – I had fun. It’s always so nice to listen to the surf, and it was extra special today.” Catherine invited her to come in and spend a little time with her in her flat, and Camille smiled and said “I’ll be over in a minute, Maman. Just want to drop my bag and wash my face!”

She went inside, dumped the bag in the hallway and took out her phone to send Richard a text to let him know she was home and would spend the remainder of the evening with Maman. It had been a lovely afternoon – they had talked, cuddled and lounged on the bed for quite a while – until they both had wanted more… and afterwards they had cuddled a bit more and eaten the snacks she had brought.

She knew it wouldn’t always be like that – they’d get snappy and have arguments, they’d be tense from work, they’d be too tired to talk or cuddle (or go beyond that) sometimes, they’d feel uninspired… that all would happen, one way or another.

But it didn’t scare her. That was life. The essential thing was that they’d have to keep communicating. That wouldn’t always be easy – Richard wasn’t used to it at all because he had been on his own for so long, and she sometimes blew things out of proportion and made mountains out of molehills… she knew that well enough. He could be so childish and pedantic…

Camille wasn’t blind when it came to his idiosyncrasies. She had often enough rolled her eyes at them. But she was aware of her own shortcomings, too, so she knew that they both would have to give and take a little bit. She would have to learn to control her temper… and the same applied to him.

She giggled as she remembered some of his rants in the past. It was so easy to wind him up. His tirades sometimes were priceless, and they were full of ‘colourful’ metaphors and interesting analogies, but they also could be very annoying – not to mention a waste of time – time that could be used so much better from now on…

With a shiver of bliss, she remembered how he had held her today and kissed her all over… he probably wasn’t the most experienced man in the world – he had even said as much this afternoon in his own awkward way – but he was honestly doing everything to please her, and she felt incredibly loved and almost worshipped when she was in his arms.

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t familiar with all sorts of tricks and gimmicks in the bedroom. He was sensitive and perceptive – and he would surely become more open to experimenting with time. Once he’d really truly understand that she wouldn’t laugh at him or run away if things weren’t entirely perfect, he’d get more self-confident and adventurous. In any case, he made her feel wonderful, and she hoped she managed to make him feel the same way.

She went to wash her face and her hands, left the phone on the sideboard and went over to her mother’s. She knew she would be tempted to check for new messages, and if Richard decided to text her back, it would be better if she didn’t read his message in Maman’s presence… Her face would give her away in an instant. On top of that, she wasn’t happy with how the phone sometimes seemed like an extension of people’s bodies, anyway, so it seemed like a good idea to take a break and relinquish it from time to time.

When she entered Catherine’s living room, she was surprised to find candles, an oil burner was spreading the subtle fresh scent of bergamot, small bowls filled with salty pretzels and roasted peanuts were waiting on the table, and Catherine had taken out the good wineglasses.

“Maman! Do we have a reason to celebrate?” she asked with raised eyebrows. “Well, I wouldn’t say it’s a celebration,” was Catherine’s slightly apprehensive reply, “it’s more a ‘sorry it didn’t work out for you, but I’m happy you’re staying’ kind of thing… about the job in Paris, you know.”

She looked a little embarrassed and – as she gestured to the sofa to invite her daughter to sit down – continued “That’s how I really feel, you know. I understand that you wanted a change, but I can’t help it – I’m glad that it’s not happening… at least not now.”

Camille was puzzled, but decided to wait what would come next. Catherine poured the wine, set the bottle on the table and took a seat next to her daughter. She folded her hands in her lap and said remorsefully “I’m sorry for – well, the other evening. I shouldn’t have set you up with Paul. I just thought… you know…”

She took a deep breath and went on “It was wrong, and I understand why you got mad. I won’t do it again, really. I just want you to be happy, and if you are okay being by yourself, then so be it. Somehow, I just went into a panic because… well, everyone around here my age has grandchildren, and I love kids, so… oh, you know what it’s like…”

At that point, Camille took her mother’s hand and said “Oh, Maman… I know! But…”

“You don’t have to explain anything, Camille… I think I may have taken it a bit too far by arranging all those dates for you when you weren’t really ready. I should have known it would drive you away – you have always loved your freedom, and I’ve tried to tie you down… partly for selfish reasons…”

It was obvious that Catherine was struggling for words, so Camille reached out to hug her mother, and they sat together for a few minutes until Catherine had regained her composure. It hadn’t been easy for her to make this move and apologise to her daughter, but the conversation with the Pattersons had made her understand that her behaviour really could have been part of the reason why Camille wanted to go away and start over somewhere else. She had practically walked right over her, and that had caused a rift between them. A rift that Catherine didn’t want to become broader…

And she didn’t want to make the same mistake like so many other parents – wait and expect their child to make the first move. It hadn’t been Camille’s fault that things had gone sour between them – she had humoured her mother to a certain extent, but when Catherine had moved beyond a specific line, she had let her know and clearly stated her point of view… it had been her – Catherine’s – mistake to ignore that and push further. Reluctantly, she had had to admit that if anyone had walked over her the way she had tried to walk over Camille, she would have been very angry and hurt, too.

After a little while, Camille said softly “Come on, Maman – let’s raise our glasses to… to you and me, to respect, and – er – to love. And let’s forget about arguing, about Paris and new jobs!” Catherine sniffled a little, and they made peace over wine and snacks.

For the next hour, they reclined and chatted on the sofa – both of them avoided talking about the night of the storm, however. Obviously, Camille didn’t want to say too much because she was afraid she’d give away the secret that she and Richard shared now, and Catherine didn’t want to reveal that she had had a crucial conversation with the Pattersons that had made her look at things differently and understand that she had gone too far. She didn’t want Camille to know, either, that she had mentioned her job application to Selwyn Patterson – Camille surely had given his name as a reference, so in case the French would have contacted him, he would have known, anyway – but Camille would have been upset with her mother for ‘gossiping’.

So, they both just acknowledged that the storm had happened, talked about the damages that had been done, wondered when the next storm would hit – or if maybe they wouldn’t have to endure another one of this format… and moved on to more general stuff from there.

When Camille returned to her flat over an hour later and went to bed she was still utterly confused. What had come over her mother? Obviously her outbreak the other evening that had indicated that she was seriously fed up had had an effect she couldn’t have imagined.

Catherine had confessed tonight that she couldn’t bear the thought that her behaviour might have driven Camille to taking action and applying for jobs abroad.

“I don’t want you to go away, Camille… I mean, of course, you must lead your own life, and if you feel that you have to leave because you want to land a good job and do things you can’t do around here, that’s something else, but I got the feeling that you were fed up with me and the pressure I put on you… and really, I never wanted to do that to you!”

Camille took the phone that she had put on her nightstand a few minutes ago and looked at the text again that Richard had sent her.

‘Good luck & have fun’ it said… No sign of affection, not a syllable or a sign to indicate that she was more than an acquaintance. He could have sent this text to anyone. That was Richard... She shook her head, an amused smile was curling her lips. She wasn’t offended at all – she had known him for long enough to expect anything else. She’d have to teach him to be a bit less undemonstrative. But it was a success that he had answered at all. His usual philosophy was that he wouldn’t respond if it wasn’t really necessary.

She sent him another brief message in return to wish him a good night. She couldn’t wait to tell him about her evening – it had all turned out rather differently from what she had imagined.

********************

Richard smiled when her second text – wishing him a good night - arrived. Obviously, the evening with her mother had gone well, otherwise Camille would have called him to vent about it. The words “more tomorrow” – adorned with about ten exclamation marks, five smileys, three hearts and three kisses! – made him curious, though. Of course, one exclamation mark would have been enough (interesting enough, he didn’t think the smileys, hearts and kisses were too much, though!), but when Camille felt something had to be emphasised, she knew no limits…

He was still in a daze about the events of the past few days. He had certainly noticed that – while Camille hadn’t been overly argumentative or stroppy over the past months - she had been moody, and for a while, he had thought she was perhaps cross with him for some reason (or none at all… she didn’t need reasons, he had learnt that much!), or that she was under the weather or whatever. You never knew with anyone – and even less with women, particularly French ones…

But he had thought it would pass, and then she’d be back to normal. The confession that she had applied for a job abroad had worried him no end – somehow, he had never considered her wanting to leave and go somewhere else… a naïve attitude, as he knew now – and indeed he should have known better after having worked together with her for well over two – almost three! - years. She could be a little radical sometimes, and obviously she had been driven to the end of her tether with all the things going on in her life.

He hadn’t realised that she had felt that everyone was pushing and pulling her into different directions, how frazzled and torn she had felt altogether – and he hadn’t understood his role in the whole scenario, either. Today, between kisses and cuddling, she had confessed to him that his reservedness had driven her batty, and that she hadn’t been able to figure out how he felt about her – and that she had hoped to find closure by drawing a line and starting over somewhere else. His remark that running away never solved any problems had made her understand that the uncertainty of ‘what if’ wouldn’t go away if she moved to another continent. In theory, she had known that. But the way he had said it had had an enormous impact on her.

“So that’s what you meant when you spoke about sorting something out on the evening of the storm,” he had exclaimed. Now he understood! She had smiled sweetly and said sarcastically “You’re a genius, Richard, absolutely.” He had felt like an idiot, but she had compensated for the sardonic comment by caressing and kissing him, and he had secretly thought that if she was going to sweeten all her not-so-flattering remarks that way, he could certainly get used to that.

However, he was a little anxious and worried about her expectations regarding their new relationship. Could he live up to them? Was he ‘boyfriend material’ at all? Well, given his age, he hardly fell in the ‘boy category’ any more… wasn’t there an equivalent notion for grown up men? Partner, maybe? Or did that sound too business-like? He frowned, but then dismissed this train of thoughts as splitting hairs.

Whatever… Hadn’t he been on his own for too long? Wasn’t he too set in his ways? He had been disappointed in the past, and he had given up trying long ago, so the recent development seemed like a miracle to him.

He still wasn’t quite sure how it had all happened – the last thing he knew was that he had been scared and nervous to have her in his shack when the storm hit because he was afraid he’d lose control and make a complete fool of himself… and of course, Camille had done everything to make him feel edgy… just by being herself. Then she really had made him lose control – and it had been… amazing. What a prosaic, mediocre word for the firework of emotions and sensations he had experienced during that night!

And the biggest (and most wonderful) surprise was that she still wanted him now, that it hadn’t just been a ‘one-off’.

This had been his subliminal fear… that she’d wake up and tell him it had all been a mistake. Or sneak out, disappear without a word and pretend it had never happened. Not only women had this fear of being abandoned, of being ‘thrown away’… although the general view was that it only worked one way: men were predators, women were prey, and it was always the men who performed the disappearing act or said it had been a foolish mistake and walked away.

But men had feelings as well… He had never understood the concept of sleeping with someone ‘just for fun’ and then leaving them behind – where was the point in that? That couldn’t really be ‘fun’. All that talking about ‘but it’s only our bodies…’ – hell, no. It was more than that. For him, it was an act of trust…

Sharing this act of intimacy was something you didn’t do on a whim – or at least he didn’t. And he knew that he couldn’t be the only one – there had to be more men who felt that way. In any case, the throw-away-mentality some people had always had appalled him. He had hoped she wouldn’t be like that, but of course he had had nagging doubts that he might not be good enough, experienced enough, adept enough for her. That even if she hadn’t intended to disappear, he might have disappointed her, and she would not want him as a man and a person with all his shortcomings, but had mainly been curious to ‘solve a puzzle’ or ‘crack a mystery’ - and would move on afterwards.

He had never really considered himself being ‘worthy’ of her, and it mystified him that she should have fallen for him… then again, he wasn’t all that bad after all, either – so why worry? When she was around, he felt witty, interesting and lovable (it was impossible not to feel that way when she was cuddling up to him, kissing him and telling him how good it felt to be with him) – when she was away, he wondered a little what she saw in him. And to think that she had been looking at him that way and he hadn’t even noticed it – that baffled him. Well, life worked in mysterious ways…

Now they only had to sort out the situation with Catherine and the Commissioner. If those two accepted their relationship without making a racket about it, their life would be so much easier. Richard really didn’t want to be the centre of attention in town – Camille was an island beauty of great renown, loads of rumours had been spread about her adventurous life back in Europe (she had assured him that not even a fraction of all the stories were true), and her single state had been a constant source of idle gossip over the past couple of years….

And he, well, he was the local Chief of Police, an Englishman who had the reputation of being an oddball, a loner and a nagger, not to mention a stick-in-the-mud, and if he hadn’t been so successful as a detective, people would have given up on him long ago. He was striking, almost bewildering with his suits and ties, and he knew very well that the island folk talked about him and his weird habits – not only behind his back, but very openly, too. He had decided long ago that he could ignore it most of the time - it was none of their business, and his hermit life in the beach shack suited him pretty well – despite all the deficits of the dwelling.

Camille and he were realistic about it – people would talk. You couldn’t stop them. But if Catherine and the Commissioner let them live in peace and refrained from asking them nosey questions and prodding them into whatever direction, the ‘public eye’ would get bored quickly and turn elsewhere. The gossipers had more to talk if there were seemingly ‘sensational’ conflicts, quarrels and arguments – negativity, in short. So, it was important to win that battle before it started.

Richard wasn’t entirely sure how the Commissioner saw the ‘non fraternisation rules’ Camille had said he shouldn’t worry, but it was hard to figure out Selwyn Patterson’s attitude towards this subject. He could imagine very well what Catherine would think about her daughter being involved with him, though – and this wasn’t really very encouraging. Camille had indicated that her mother would perhaps be upset, and Richard could well believe this – although Catherine had always been polite towards him, he knew that she didn’t consider him being an eligible suitor for Camille.

He remembered the small scene on the patio over one and a half years ago all too well… it had been the evening of the Erzulie festival, and Camille had shown up in that amazing red dress… For a few minutes, it had felt like they were having a date… then Catherine had showed up to shoo her daughter to her real date, and the look in her eyes had said everything. How could anybody in their right mind think she’d match up her daughter with Richard? He had felt very small and insignificant when Camille’s mother hadn’t even made an effort to hide her dismissive attitude…

Well, whatever – they would have to find a way to deal with the Commissioner and with Catherine. So far, they didn’t have a plan. They had a few ideas, but they didn’t know if they were feasible. So, for the moment they had decided to keep a low profile and act discreetly. There wouldn’t be public displays of affection, no matter how tempted they might be to show their love, there wouldn’t be any intimate e-mails on their work accounts, and there wouldn’t be any soulful glances in the presence of others.

It would require some self-discipline, but they both were professionals, they could do it. And they both knew that once things picked up at the station, they wouldn’t feel inclined to act like a couple in love – they’d be too engrossed with collecting evidence and solving the case. The slow periods would be more dangerous, but well, they’d take things the way they’d come.

There was nothing else they could do, anyway…


	15. A Baffling Piece of Advice

Monday came, and Richard entered the station in a brilliant mood. Nobody was surprised – after all, the renovations had gone well, the office looked great, and everything had turned out the way it had been planned…

Dwayne thought that the Chief was maybe overdoing it a little with his cheerfulness, but his slightly critical mood had its origin in a bad hangover, so he realised that he was perhaps a little unfair…

Fidel was busy examining the new electrical outlets and remarked that Eddie had definitely done a good job, and the newly painted walls looked very good, too.

Camille looked up from her computer screen, smiled and said “Ah, there you are! So… the storm didn’t blow you away?” There was a little twinkle in her eyes, but before he could say anything, she continued “We have just been discussing the storm and its effects… Nothing is broken here, so I’m glad – it would have been such a shame with all the effort that has been put into remodeling, just to see it go bad the same minute…”

Richard was about to reply when the telephone rang – Fidel took the call, jotted down a few notes and said reassuringly “We’ll be there in fifteen minutes, ma’am. Yes… no worries, we’ll be right on our way.” He hung up and said “Domestic violence. Once again. Not the usual thing, though – seems like the lady is looking after her father-in-law who suffers from dementia… and he has turned to believing that she’ll poison him and become violent towards her… I’m not sure how to proceed here…” He shot Richard a glance, silently asking for help.

“Hmmm. I think it wouldn’t hurt if you called an ambulance as well, Fidel – either the lady or her father-in-law might need it. And then, of course, we’ll have to see if the man is dangerous - for himself and others. If worst comes to worst, he might have to be hospitalised. But that’s not our decision – fortunately a doctor and a judge will have to decide about that sort of thing. Camille – could you please go with Fidel to interrogate the lady? I think she’ll feel safer with you around instead of having to deal with yet another male at this point.”

That left Dwayne and Richard in the office. Dwayne wasn’t really all that inclined to make polite conversation, but he decided it would be better not to focus too much on the hangover – he needed distraction. So, he tried to show some interest in how the painting had gone, and Richard gave him a brief rundown on the whole thing. He also mentioned Vincent Banks, and Dwayne remembered the case in the Jacaranda Clinic immediately.

Like Camille and Richard, he was pleased that someone had given the boy a chance. “I bet he would’ve fallen through the grid otherwise… Too many idle sluggards hanging around who have nothing better to do but take advantage of naïve boys like him – and before he would’ve known it, he would’ve been in a pinch! Glad to hear that Nick lets him help out and gives him a regular salary. I bet he’s as good as gold – the Bankses have the reputation of being very loyal…”

They talked a little about the electrical work as well, and Richard mentioned that Eddie would hopefully come round to his shack to take a look at the fusebox and the general wiring. Dwayne was just about to go into a colourful story about how Charlie Hulme once had almost set the shack on fire when a shadow fell into the office and the Commissioner appeared in the doorframe.

Richard and Dwayne both stood to attention automatically. Selwyn Patterson smiled as he said “Good morning, Inspector…” and gave a nod in Dwayne’s direction “Officer Myers…”

He actually enjoyed this part of his position. It made him feel more important, as he admitted to himself. His wife Lizelle had teased him about this feature over all the years of their married life, and he had to concede that she had a point there. He still was making up for the years when he had been at the end of the line, waiting patiently to get a chance to climb the ladder.

He looked around, made a few friendly comments regarding the new look of the station and then gave Richard a meaningful glance, accompanied by his usual “May I have a word, Inspector?”

“Oh – of course, sure, sir…” Richard replied hastily. Turning to Dwayne, he said “Dwayne, would you please take care of the boxes that are still in the spare room? Thank you!”

Whatever the Commissioner had to say to him – he didn’t want it to happen within Dwayne’s earshot…

The Commissioner went outside and stood by the balustrade. Richard followed him, his mind racing… and trying to figure out the reason for Selwyn Patterson’s grave face. He couldn’t think of anything serious enough to make the Commissioner frown like that… the renovations had worked out well, he had asked Eddie and Nick to send their respective invoices as quickly as possible, the rearranging of the furniture had gone smoothly, and there hadn’t been any hurricane damages, there were no open cases right now… what could make the Commissioner look so serious?

“I’m here to talk to you about Sergeant Bordey, Inspector…” Richard’s eyes widened. Had their secret already been discovered? But how… they had been so cautious… and it had only been a few days. Had the grapevine already worked its way into their relationship? He prepared himself for the worst – and his face looked extremely apprehensive… as it always did when the Commissioner approached him.

“First of all, Inspector, let me tell you that it’s not my habit to interfere when it comes to the private life of my officers… So, this is an exception, and I’ve decided to take action because I’m – er – extremely alarmed. Yes, extremely alarmed…”

Richard turned pale and nearly fainted. Oh dear. This did not bode well… His hand almost moved up to the collar of his shirt – he would have loosened his tie if it hadn’t made him look unprofessional. So, all he could do was swallow hard and croak “Right, sir – what’s the matter?”

“You must understand, Inspector, that this is absolutely confidential.”

He paused, and Richard thought he’d pass out if the Commissioner continued being so secretive and stretching him on the rack with his stern solemnity.

Then he heard him say “I have heard from – er – a reliable source that Sergeant Bordey has applied for a job in France.”

He made a pause again and tried to gauge Richard’s reaction.

Richard looked dumbfounded – but it was not the Commissioner’s ‘revelation’ that had caused his apparent bewilderment, but the relief that his original suspicion had been completely off the mark. He tried to get the features of his face under control again and said faintly “Ah. I see.”

“I also know that she has not succeeded with her application, and someone else got the position in question. However, what alarms me is the fact that she has applied for the job at all. What’s going on, Inspector? I’m sure you’re aware that during the first few months of your – er – cooperation, she applied for transfers and other jobs regularly because she obviously felt she’d prefer working in a different team, but that fizzled out eventually, and since Aimee Fredericks has been murdered, I haven’t seen or heard of any activity from her side in this respect.”

His scrutinizing eyes went over Richard’s face and saw nothing but blankness. It puzzled him a little that the Inspector was so quiet, but he assumed that his disclosure had rattled him considerably. Maybe he was beginning to realise that he could lose Camille?

Gravely, he continued “You know, Inspector, Sergeant Bordey will continue to apply for other jobs until she succeeds – provided she really wants to leave. So far, I assumed that the two of you have found a way to coexist and work together, and I must say that you do so very efficiently. I’m extremely impressed with the crime solving rate, and your successful cooperation has made a big difference on the island. I would find it excessively dissatisfying if your cooperation came to an end. I’m now wondering if you are aware of any issues that could make Sergeant Bordey wish to leave Saint Marie.”

“Me? Um… no, not really, sir. I mean, I have noticed that she has been a little under the weather for a while now, but well, we all have our – er – not so stellar phases sometimes, and whether we like it or not, it shines through - occasionally. But we all – um – give our best at – er – any time. And I have to say that I’m very – er – satisfied with Sergeant Bordey’s performance, as I have also stated in my last report – I couldn’t wish for a better team, really. And of course you know that I believe in – er – acknowleding the team’s efforts, so Sergeant Bordey knows that I hold her in – um - high esteem.”

Richard tried to sound as professional as he could. Years and years of practice in hiding his feelings helped him… “Of course,” he added a little stiffly “I can’t speak for Sergeant Bordey… I don’t know, maybe she has – er – other plans for her future…”

The Commissioner eyed him suspiciously. “And there are no smoldering conflicts between the two of you?” he asked insistently. Richard pretended to think about it before replying almost hesitantly “Er, no… not that I’m aware of, sir…”

“Hmmm.” Selwyn Patterson’s wasn’t quite sure of what to make of this. He had been very relieved when Catherine had called to inform him that Camille had not got the job in France, but he knew very well that if she was unhappy, she’d continue to send out applications, and eventually, she would succeed…

He leant on the balustrade and looked straight into Richard’s eyes. “It’s not always easy for a woman in a team of men, Inspector. Could she feel uncomfortable because of the other two officers? I hope not, because so far I have always seen you as a very good and efficient team…”

Richard shook his head and said earnestly “No, sir, that’s impossible. Officer Myers and Sergeant Best are always very correct in their behaviour, and I think I can vouch that Sergeant Bordey doesn’t only see them as mere colleagues, but as friends. As you know, this is a close-knit team, we work together very well, and there have never been any – er – difficulties between Sergeant Bordey and the two others.”

He was beginning to wonder if they were playing a game of charade. The Commissioner clearly was worried, that sentiment was real - but there was something about the way he said things that made Richard suspicious. Selwyn Patterson was crafty and artful when it came to pursuing his goals – Richard had learnt this the hard way. This time, the goal in question was in a haze for Richard, though – he had no idea where this was heading. He just hoped that Camille wouldn’t get into difficulties…

“Well, Inspector…,” he heard the Commissioner say now, “you are the head officer here. I think you should make an effort to find out what’s bugging Sergeant Bordey and discuss it with her. I do not – and I cannot emphasise this enough! – NOT wish her to leave. So, whatever it is that makes her unhappy, I urgently advise you to find out and rectify the situation, provided it’s within your power. And I’m sure it is. We can’t afford to have – er – a spanner in the works here. I want things to go smoothly, and people have to be happy with their work environment for working efficiently – that includes relationships between team members. I’m sure you understand what I mean…”

The truth was that Richard actually had no idea how to react adequately to the Comissioner’s words. He felt an alarming desire to burst into hysterical laughter rising up, but clearly, that would have been inappropriate and given him away... Just in time, he realised he was gawping and quickly pulled himself together, focusing on his supervisor’s next words.

Those came out thoughtfully and totally took Richard by surprise. Selwyn Patterson said softly “It might be a good idea to discuss it in a less official environment, though. Why don’t the two of you go to a café or even a restaurant and talk over some food? Just a suggestion, of course.”

Curious and curiouser… Richard nodded mutely, not sure if he could trust his ears. The Commissioner shot him a sly glance and said in a lower voice “Perhaps it would be advisable to choose a place outside of Honoré, Inspector, so you can talk – er -undisturbedly. In – er – private, as they say, you know…”

The expression on Richard’s face now changed – he looked alarmed. Patterson noticed it and said reassuringly “Oh, don’t worry, Inspector… the non-fraternisation rules, as we see them here, are really just – er – recommendations, and nobody here will hang you for being seen with your Detective Sergeant. Of course, I know you will handle this all with utter discretion. I just think it’s better to talk at a place where you will have a little privacy. That would be a little difficult around here.”

“Ah – yes, sure… um… thank you, sir. I will think about it and see what – er – I can do.” Richard had a hard time keeping his face straight now. Was the Commissioner actually encouraging him to go on a date with Camille?

“Very well, Inspector… I know I can rely on you. I will leave this in your capable hands… Right… thank you for your time, and I trust that everything will work out well. I’ll let you continue with your work now - good day to you, and – er - don’t wait too long…”

With that, he nodded briefly and disappeared. Richard watched him descending the stairs and scratched his head. He had no idea where this had come from… but well, it gave him an official permit to ask Camille out on a date without having to hide. And he knew that once the first hurdle was taken, they could move more freely and spend time together without getting into trouble – as long as they didn’t overdo it and smooch and cuddle in public. Which was an appalling idea, anyway. He had already decided that this kind of behaviour would be completely inappropriate, and he hoped that Camille would accept this point of view and act accordingly. He knew she was more relaxed about these things – but well, he wasn’t, and he hoped that she would not force him into situations he’d find uncomfortable.

He turned around and went inside again. Dwayne was still busy logging the things they had stored in the spare room back into the office, and Richard took off his jacket to come to his help. He saw that his officer was struggling a little – he had an extremely limited attention span today - and figured it was not beneath him to unpack a few boxes so things would be in order again more quickly…

***********

Camille and Fidel returned a little while after Dwayne and Richard had finished their unpacking project. Fidel pulled out his notes and remarked “That was a sad thing, really. The lady wasn’t hurt badly, but the doctor had to give her an injection – sedative, you know – because she was hysterical. Her father-in-law has been taken to hospital now, and they will have to examine him and find out if he can keep living with the family or if he has to be institutionalised. It wasn’t the first time that this happened, but she said he had become generally more violent lately, and she had no idea how to help herself but call the police… so sad.”

Camille filled him in on the details and said “I’ll write that report, no worries. Since the father-in-law obviously isn’t ‘compos mentis’, there’s nothing we can do about it – I figure we’ll have to leave it that way. The lady’s husband is away for a business trip at the moment, so they were alone in the house. I think she’s relieved that he’s not there any more, but she also feels guilty. Oh, by the way – this happened right in your neighbourhood, so to speak! Sanderson is the name, do you happen to know them? They are actually your immediate neighbours – about one and a half kilometres… right, about a mile away from where you live, maybe a little less than that… you know where the gravel road goes down to the beach, there’s also a dirt road turning right… you go that until the end, and there’s their house!”

Richard nodded thoughtfully. “Lady in her mid 40s, Saint Marie born, husband Jamaican? House not overly big or posh, nice size, good view on the ocean, palm trees all around, nice little garden, slightly neglected?”

“Yes, that’s right! So, you do know them?” He shrugged. “Can’t say I do. I have met them once – the postman had delivered part of their mail to my place accidentally, so I went to drop it off at theirs.”

“How nice of you, sir,” said Fidel.

Richard raised his eyebrows. “Oh, I don’t know. It was something official looking, so maybe they weren’t too happy after all, but it really was no big deal for me. I mean, everybody would do that, wouldn’t they?”

Camille smiled. “I know an awful lot of people who’d just throw it in the bin and wouldn’t care a bit about their neighbour’s mail.” Richard looked shocked.

She continued “Anyway, that’s the Sandersons, yes. The lady said that her father-in-law hasn’t been feeling ‘at home’ lately. The more the dementia unfolds, the more he claims he wants to go home. They have been living in that house for about five years now, and she says when they moved here, from some other island – it was not Jamaica, though, as she emphasised that – he was still fit and healthy.” - Like Fidel, she ended with a heartfelt “so sad…”

Richard nodded, and Dwayne – whose hangover didn’t really get better as the day went on - said “Hey, you missed the Commissioner, by the way – he showed up shortly after you left! I guess he wanted to see the renovations – seemed rather pleased. Although you never know with him, do you… Well, at least he didn’t complain about anything, so that’s already something to be happy about.”

Dwayne would have loved to know what the conversation between the Chief and the Commissioner had been about. Richard had looked slightly dumbfounded when he had returned inside and helped him, but he hadn’t said anything, and Dwayne was dying to know what the conversation had been about.

He had tried to eavesdrop when the Commissioner had talked to Richard, but that had been thwarted by Richard’s request (or rather ‘order’!) to get things done in the spare room. So, he assumed that it had been a delicate matter, and that made him very, very curious. Well… maybe he’d find out what it was all about eventually, but for now the Chief’s completely neutral face gave him no hint.

Camille sounded a little nervous when she said “Oh, the Commissioner was here? What did he say? I suppose he wanted to see where the money went?”

“Hmm. Yes, I think so,” Richard said. “He made a few appreciative remarks… Well, you know him, Camille – hard to say what he really thinks. But he was basically – er – in good spirits, I think, and he praised the brightness of colour in general and the extra coat of transparent varnish around the sink in particular.”

She looked at him, anxiety in her eyes. He shook his head slightly to indicate that he couldn’t go into it right now. Camille thought she’d die of frustration. She so wanted to tell him about her evening with Maman, and now the Commissioner had shown up, and she had missed him… But there was no point in fretting, all she could do now was write up the report, and then it would be lunch time, so maybe they would have an opportunity to talk then.

Fidel finished unpacking the box with the contents of his desk – he hadn’t had the time to do it before as he and Camille had driven off to the domestic violence case. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Dwayne was battling a low point – he had obviously had a wild weekend. Fidel sighed inwardly. He really, really liked Dwayne, but every once in a while he wished he’d act a bit more responsibly instead of running riot whenever the chance presented itself. He cleared his throat and said “Going over the market with me, Dwayne?” Dwayne gave a startled noise – obviously, he had been about to doze off again.

“Yeah, right – er, good idea, Fidel! Let’s get some food as well, huh?” Fidel politely turned around and asked “Can we bring you anything, Camille? Sir?” Camille looked over inquiringly and asked thoughtfully “Are you going to the bakery?” Fidel nodded. Camille was sucking on her pen, pondering the options. Fidel waited patiently for her to make up her mind. He expected the Chief to turn down the offer, so he was startled when Richard said hesitantly “Something savoury, maybe… if they have that, I mean. Like – er – a crunchy pretzel? I don’t mind the sweet stuff there, but right now, something else would suit me better… so if you can get me a pretzel, I’d give it a try. If not – then a bagel.”

“And a chocolate croissant for me,” added Camille.

Fidel and Dwayne looked at each other incredulously. This was a first. Richard had never ever wanted anything from the market, except for maybe fruit, like bananas or so. Something that was easy to eat and didn’t ruin his suits… Neither Camille nor Richard seemed to notice the two officers’ astonishment, they both were already focusing on their computers again.

On the steps down to the street, Dwayne expressed his amazement and said “Wow. A pretzel. Did you hear that? I hope he will survive…” Fidel laughed and said “Oh, come on, Dwayne! I must say I’m also surprised, though… Who would have thought the Chief would ever want us to get something for him? I suppose we’ll have to mark today in the calendar and celebrate it annually in the future as the ‘Chief’s Pretzel Day’ or something like that!” They both laughed as they went off and chatted while walking around and ‘showing presence’, as they liked to put it.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Camille looked up and said “So what did he say?” “No, you first,” he insisted. “The suspense is killing me – the series of exclamation marks made me wonder, and I just can’t guess what they meant!” He leant back in his wheelie chair and looked at her expectantly.

Camille got up and strolled over to where Richard was sitting. Before perching on his desk, she bent down and kissed his temple. She didn’t dare to go beyond that because she knew how flustered he could get in situations that were uncomfortable for him, and she realised that they were still in the beginning stages of their relationship. No matter how long they had already been working together – this was all very new for them, and she didn’t want to ruin it all and scare him by being too straightforward, particularly in public. And the station clearly was a public place. So… she would have to wait for another occasion to kiss him properly.

She noticed his relief and smiled inwardly. Wasn’t he just adorable… and the way he looked at her legs, longingly – but pretending he didn’t care at all about how good she looked in the red pencil skirt that she was wearing – that was really something… But she pulled herself together and began “You won’t believe it – Maman apologised and made a peace offer yesterday evening. She never wants to set up a blind date for me any more. It seems I really shocked her with my application for the job in France.”

She recounted the events of the last evening to him, and they both marvelled at Catherine’s change of heart. “She said that she was sorry for pushing me so hard – really, Richard, I was almost crying because of how keen she was on showing her remorse! She has never done that before. I mean, sure, we both say we are sorry and we apologise for mistakes and bad behaviour, and we mean it - but she was downright grovelling, if you know what I mean.”

He nodded and said slowly “I’m happy for you that she did it. I mean, so many mothers – and fathers, for that matter – don’t apologise to their offspring when they have done something hurtful or wrong to them. It’s interesting because most of them try to teach their kids to do the right thing – go and apologise when you have made a mistake – but they won’t do it themselves. It’s like their children are supposed to know and forgive automatically. I think your mother’s behaviour indicates that she wants to show you her respect and acceptance – as an equal, if you know what I mean. Of course, you’re still mother and daughter, but she has understood – hopefully – that you cannot be bossed around any more, and that you will live your life, no matter what. Not that she has been – er – overly bossy, compared to others, I mean… but you know how she has a way of talking you into something that you aren’t – um – totally keen on doing…”

Camille rolled her eyes and said “Yes, tell me about it… She can be very convincing!” They smiled at one another, and – a little hesitantly - he put his hand over hers that was resting on the desk.

“Now you,” she demanded. “I’m dying to know what the Commissioner had to do here today! What did he say?”

“I wish I knew… But I think essentially it’s this – he’s given me permission to go out with you and try my best to hold you back from leaving Saint Marie!”

“Huh?” Camille was flabbergasted. That sounded too good to be true – and it was not what she had expected.

Before she could ask for more details, however, Dwayne’s voice boomed out on the stairs outside “For heaven’s sake, Fidel, you’re taking this all way too seriously! Your life would be much easier if you were a bit more flexible!”

Camille and Richard didn’t really care to know what kind of advice that was – they knew their time was over. Obviously, Dwayne had felt that his head hurt too much for a longer walk outside. He and Fidel hadn’t been away for longer than maybe twenty minutes when they usually took at least three quarters of an hour or longer for their market patrols.

She hurried back to her desk, with one pleading backward glance to Richard. “After work?” she mouthed. He nodded and turned to his computer again.


	16. Letting Go of Old Patterns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're basically in part 2 of the story now - originally, I had planned two consecutive stories, but then it all developed differently (those of you who write longer / ongoing stories might know what I mean... sometimes, things just don't go the way you've outlined them initially), and making a 'series' out of these stories seemed a bit contrived. So I packed it all into one long narration. - I hope you'll continue to enjoy this! Feel free to comment / send feedback.

When work was finished, Fidel asked if he could have the Defender so he could take Dwayne home – the older officer clearly wasn’t feeling so well. Richard said complaisantly “Oh, by all means, Fidel! Just go ahead! I don’t think it would be so good if Dwayne went home by himself today.”

Dwayne grumbled a bit and said he’d be alright, and Fidel shouldn’t make such a huge fuss about him, but he was secretly glad that he didn’t have to get on the motorcycle and drive by himself. On some days, he felt his age… and today was one of them… Although he usually refused to acknowledge it, he was indeed several years older than the Chief, and although he was fit and in good shape, he really wasn’t a young whippersnapper any more, and the past few weeks had been a little challenging.

So, he gave in and had his own personal chauffeur on this memorable Monday evening… on the first “Chief’s Pretzel Day”, as he and Fidel had decided to call it.

On the way to Dwayne’s place, the two of them got back to their boss’s surprising food order in their conversation. He had never asked them to bring something from the bakery – although they knew he bought bread there sometimes. Apparently, he had lost his mind over the Commissioner’s visit.

“What did he say?” Fidel wanted to know again. They had briefly broached the subject during their market patrol, but got distracted when one of the stall owners had approached them to praise her fresh pineapple juice. “I already told you - I have no idea,” was Dwayne’s frustrated reply. “The Chief made me go into the spare room and rummage around there – so I assume he didn’t want me to hear it. The Commissioner had this look on his face… - like he wanted to – er – confront you with something unpleasant. I don’t know how he does it, but I always feel like he knows I’ve done something wrong when he’s around. Not that I have… oh, you know!”

Fidel could make neither head nor tail of it. “I give up, really. The Chief didn’t seem so – er – upset afterwards, but you never know with him.” He looked over to Dwayne and said with a grin “But it clearly increased his appetite. He was almost disappointed that we hadn’t got him a pretzel and a bagel on top of it.”

Dwayne laughed. “Yeah, I know. He really bolted it down, and then he was frustrated when there wasn’t more. He’s so funny. And he helped me with the stuff in the spare room when he saw that I was struggling with one of the boxes. That was nice. He has become a lot better, hasn’t he. Even took off his jacket. Mind you, he still can be such a fusspot, but I really like him. Never would’ve thought that when he came over initially. Thought he was a mere pen-pusher. Never would’ve thought, either, that he’d settle in. Remember how I thought he’d never come back after escorting Vicky Woodward to London? Well, I tell you what - I’m glad he returned.”

Fidel nodded and replied “Me, too. He seems weird when you first meet him, but really, he’s kind – if you manage to look behind his pompous ado. And he’s very clever. I don’t think Charlie Hulme could have solved the cases we’ve had to deal with over the past two years. Well, obviously he couldn’t as he is dead – but well, you know what I mean.”

“Wait,” Dwayne looked at Fidel, a gleam in his eyes. “Maybe the Commissioner was there to tell him about a forthcoming promotion?”

“Yeah. Could be… Or about a transfer,” Fidel said slowly. The Defender stopped in front of Dwayne’s place. The older officer stared at his younger colleague and asked “Do you think that would happen? After over two years? Oh no…”

Despite Richard’s strange habits and sometimes rather odd behaviour, Dwayne had come to like and respect his boss, and the possibility that he might leave again now was depressing. He knew that he’d manage somehow with literally any Chief, but it just wasn’t a very appealing idea to adjust to someone new again – not when things were going so well with Richard. Dwayne had noticed that the local police’s general reputation had gone up, and people showed more respect to the officers as well – and he liked that, of course.

Fidel wasn’t too happy about the idea of Richard leaving, either. He shrugged and said “I have no idea. I think he’d tell us, though. I figure we’ll have to watch him for a little while and see if there are any signs for him wanting to wrap it all up and leave…”

******************

Meanwhile at the station, Camille shut down her computer and began to close the shutters of the office. Richard got up to help her – when they were finished, he took her hand and made her sit down on her wheelie chair. He pulled another chair right opposite to her and sat down as well.

Within a few minutes he had given her a rundown of the conversation with the Commissioner. Her eyes got wider and wider in the course of his narration, and when he had reached the end of it with a triumphant “So, you see… we can go out on a date – if you want to, of course – and there won’t be any negative consequences. The way the Commissioner phrased it, he sees the non-fraternisation rules as ‘recommendations’ – which would hopefully also include that he wouldn’t mind us being – er – involved, provided we’d get the work done and remain discreet. He emphasised that he does not want you to leave – and basically authorised me to do whatever I think is necessary to take your mind off wanting to go away and keep you here, as part of the team.”

He smiled happily, and she laughed out loud as she placed her hands on his thighs and leant forward to kiss him on the cheek. “For now, I guess this has to do,” she whispered in his ear “but guess what, I think we’ll have to celebrate a bit more extensively when I visit you next time…”

The fruity scent of her perfume engulfed him, and Richard closed his eyes for a moment as he turned his head and buried his nose in her curls. He said softly “That sounds good to me.” Together they got up, and he looked at her longingly. The mask of professionalism had fallen off, and Camille could see that he was struggling to say something. She waited patiently – there was no point in trying to rush him, she knew that already.

Finally, he came out with “I’d love to take you out straightaway tonight or – er – have you staying over at my house, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to – um – move too quickly after we have only just got the Commissioner’s blessings, so-to-speak. He’d get suspicious, and the same goes for your mother… they’d feel we’ve been hiding something from them, and I don’t want that. The Commissioner is a sly old fox, and he knows me, so he’d smell a rat if we proceeded too hastily.”

Camille nodded. She was a little disappointed, but totally understood his point of view. She also knew that the Commissioner had said they’d have to be discreet, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep his ears and eyes open, and considering that he knew everyone on Saint Marie, he’d find out where they’d go and what they’d do – of course, if they met up at Richard’s place, he wouldn’t see that, but you could never be totally sure who saw you going to places, so they had to take the ‘public’ part slowly, establish a pattern and go out for dinner or coffee several times before they could get a bit more casual and open about their relationship.

At the same time, they’d have to keep the real extent of their relationship secret – which wasn’t so great, but she understood that it was necessary at this point. They would have to ‘behave’ in public, but it was a relief to know that they wouldn’t have to face professional consequences for being seen together. Camille had been determined to somehow ‘sail around’ the non-fraternisation rules, but of course it was so much easier this way.

Now there was only Maman who needed to get convinced that Richard wasn’t the emotionally cold, selfish and unfeeling man she thought he was. He was awkward, Camille knew that only too well – she had struggled with his armour of aloofness, his over-developed sense for propriety and his Englishness for long enough, so she could understand her mother’s viewpoint to a certain extent.

However, she had worked with Richard, looked behind his bombastic façade, seen other facettes of his personality and learnt that he was a kind, compassionate and sensitive man who had much love to give, but was afraid of rejection and getting hurt - and hence rather stayed alone. She wasn’t sure if Catherine would ever be able to see all this – simply because Richard would perhaps not open up enough in her presence so she could really get to know him. But well, there was no harm in trying to make her mother see that there was more to him than he showed in public…

Richard cleared his throat and said “Well, I guess we better get going… but maybe you could do me a favour and let me know some time if you have a favourite restaurant outside of Honoré that you’d like to visit for our first official date… preferably a quiet place… I’ll see then if I can get a table there towards the end of the week, and we’ll take it from there. Meanwhile – er – you are certainly welcome to… well, you know… - um – see me at my place when you – er – feel like it and have the time…”

He grinned sheepishly when he saw her warm smile. Good grief, she could turn him into a babbling moron at any time with this smile. Her mere presence was enough, come to think about it… He would have loved to take her in his arms – but he didn’t dare doing that here at the station. It wasn’t only that he didn’t feel comfortable showing affection in public and was embarrassed by the possibility that someone might walk in on them, but knowing the effect that she had on him, he was also afraid they’d get carried away – and he didn’t even want to think about the consequences… No, it was better to be disciplined.

Camille could see that he was struggling with what he wished and what he knew was appropriate, and she decided to be good and help him out of his dilemma. They’d both have to learn to make compromises…

So, she leant forward, placed her hands flat on his chest and kissed him tenderly, but very lightly, then pulled away. “Tomorrow evening?” she asked pleadingly. He nodded and finally managed to tear himself away from her. Minutes later, they locked up the office, and then each of them was on their respective way home.

**************

Catherine was happy when Camille showed up at the bar to help her a little. La Kaz was busy, but not as busy as it was during the main tourist season. The fact that it was officially hurricane season made the visitors from Europe and North America stay away. Around Christmas, it would get really busy again, the hurricane season ended in late November, so many people came again in mid-December and stayed over Christmas or spent the holidays on Saint Marie and celebrated New Year’s Eve on the island as well. The ‘part time residents’ who could afford to stay on Saint Marie for several months usually came over for what was the cold season in their countries and then left again when it turned spring there.

The big cruise ships came to Guadeloupe between December and February usually, and although Saint Marie wasn’t a port of call – it wasn’t big enough – some people who had done several Caribbean cruises already took the ferry over to the island and spent their time ashore here… just to see something different. Catherine always was extremely busy then. It brought good money, but she didn’t mind having a bit of a lull every once in a while, either. You couldn’t just work, work, work – you needed a little time to live, too. For now, island life was a bit more quiet and perhaps less exciting, but that was fine with Catherine.

Camille also was glad to get a little rest now. More tourists meant more crime, work was more hectic… she didn’t want that right now. She and Richard had more time for getting to know each other now than they would if it had been the tourist season. She grinned inwardly – it sounded ridiculous that they were in the process of getting to know each other, considering that they had been working together for over two years already and were familiar with their respective quirks and many of their mutual pet peeves.

But of course, it wasn’t only that. It had been a leap of faith for both of them to move their relationship to this level. ‘Getting physical’ had meant a whole new dimension with all its implications – and possible pitfalls. Camille had always known that for Richard it would mean more than just having ‘fun and games’ – on one hand, that had attracted her, but on the other hand, it had kept her at distance for a long time because she hadn’t been sure that this was what she wanted, too. She had known that – given his steadfast character – he’d be loyal and devoted, but it also meant it was all or nothing with him, and for a while she hadn’t been certain if she was ready for that. For so many years, she hadn’t felt good about permanent things – she hadn’t wanted to get tied down, and all her relationships had gone nowhere because of that.

It had taken her a long time to understand that there had been a pattern – and that her relationships hadn’t failed because of the alleged, ‘obvious’ reasons, but that there were other reasons, hidden beneath the surface. Reasons that had to do with her reluctance towards making commitments, her difficulties to trust, her strong desire to be independent…

She was incredibly happy and relieved that she had jumped over her shadow, made her move on him and almost forced him – well, forget ‘almost’, she had forced him… to surrender to her. Juliet’s remark that she could live without Fidel, but didn’t want to, came back to her mind. That was actually how she felt about Richard – already now, after a weekend of ‘being closer’ – and it didn’t sound so naïve to Camille any more now that she experienced the same thing.

Catherine observed her daughter as she was serving people, making playful and jesting remarks and laughing with the customers. There was some kind of quiet balance about Camille that she hadn’t seen in a long time. She realised now how edgy and volatile her daughter had been over the past few months. Well, Camille would always be mercurial and lively, but that wasn’t the point – you could be vivacious and laugh, but feel nervous and disconnected inside… and that was what Camille had been like over the past few months. Like she had been dancing on a volcano, Catherine thought, smiling at the pretentious metaphor.

She sat down at one of the tables as she saw that Camille managed fine on her own and would be able to come and join her in a minute. She was glad that her daughter seemed to feel better and hoped that it was also because she had apologised to her. They both had their strong and not so strong sides, but at least they didn’t bear grudges…

She thought back to the relationship she had had to her parents – and remembered Lizelle Patterson’s tale of the drama her parents had pulled off when she had fallen in love with the man who was now the Commissioner and had only been a simple constable back then. No, there was no point in that… Camille should live the life that she wanted. If a husband and perhaps even children were part of that – fine. If not – then Camille would find happiness in another way.

Catherine also remembered how dismayed her own parents had been with her decision to stay in the Caribbean with Camille’s father – and later on, to raise her child by herself, far away from France and her family. They hadn’t really had much of a chance to get to know their granddaughter, and back then, there hadn’t been Skype or e-mail or whatever means of keeping in touch that were available today. Camille had hated to sit and write to her unknown grandparents, and the responses from France had been stilted and generic. There just hadn’t been enough common ground to move on. At least her parents had tried – within their own personality structure – to keep connected somehow. But Camille had not really had a relationship with her grandparents – they always had remained strangers, like shadows, people that you saw on photographs but didn’t really have any deeper feelings for.

In hindsight, Catherine wondered how she had managed – there hadn’t been any support from her parents, Camille’s father had basically run off with someone else after a few years, she had had to fend for herself, and her child had been traumatised – her fear of getting abandoned had resulted in a fear of settling down with someone.

She was glad now that she had confided in Lizelle and Selwyn Patterson. She should have done that long ago – she understood now that it had been the wrong way to hackle things with her other friends who would either just tell her what she wanted to hear or gloat over the fact that things weren’t going perfectly in her family – or both. No, her friends weren’t bad people – they were only human, and they did what they thought was right, Catherine realised that. But she couldn’t really expect new insights from them - the Pattersons had more substance and perspicacity, and their compassion was real.

Camille plopped into the chair next to her mother, a glass of mango juice in her hand. “So, how was work, darling? Are you happy with the renovations?” Catherine asked. “Hmmm… yes, I think we did the right thing.” Camille smiled at her mother and went on “The new colour really is the old colour, but of course, a fresh coat of paint makes a huge difference, and the new outlets are a godsend. We could get rid of a million of extension cords which makes it a much safer place, and thanks to the electrical stuff that Eddie did, we can now run the fan along with the fax machine!” She laughed. “And it’s a good thing that we finally had a reason to declutter the spare room. It was downright scary to see what was stored in there – since the stone ages, I suppose! It looks so much nicer now, and we have actually a lot more space. It’s not so messy and cramped any more, if you know what I mean!”

She then told her mother about the case of domestic violence that she and Fidel had taken care of today. Catherine agreed that it was a really sad scenario. They both fell silent, then Catherine asked tentatively “And you aren’t unhappy any more that the Paris thing has fallen through?”

Camille played with her glass on the table and responded thoughtfully “No, I’m not. I think it wasn’t meant to be, you know. It sounded great in the vacancy description, and I’m sure I would have enjoyed it – not to mention that it would have been an adventure to return to Paris and start over… with a clean slate, if you know what I mean. That was very tempting… I mean, I love it here, but I’ve been a little restless, and it just sounded like a good opportunity. I thought I was ready for a change.”

She frowned. Then she added “But well, it’s certainly not the end of the world that it didn’t materialise. I mean… You know what they say about one door closing and another one opening up at the same time – I think there’s truth in that.”

She felt a little sneaky and false for being so vague, but she really didn’t want to talk about Richard at this point. She wanted to give their relationship a chance to unfold and develop a little before coming out with it.

Catherine didn’t dare to ask if Camille considered applying for other jobs abroad in the future – she figured that if she wasn’t, you should let sleeping dogs lie, and if she was, there was nothing she could do about it, anyway. For the moment, she seemed content with where she was. Catherine just hoped she wouldn’t get itchy feet soon again. But with her promise not to arrange any more blind dates for her daughter she had hopefully taken away a major source of dissatisfaction, and Camille would feel more at ease again. And she vowed to herself that she wouldn’t moan and groan if her daughter decided to take a route that she didn’t agree with…

They sat together for a little longer and chatted about all sorts of everyday things until Camille said “Well, Maman, I think I’ll call it a night for now. I have a cartload full of clothes that I want to bring to charity tomorrow, and I need to pack them into boxes before, so I guess I should get going now.”

Catherine nodded and said “I’ll see you tomorrow then, I guess?” Camille smiled and said “I suppose so…” With that, she got up, leant over to kiss her mother on the cheek and left.


	17. Secret Conversations and Conspiracies

When Camille came home, she sighed at the sight of the pile of clothes that was waiting for her. Some of the items on the pile made her shake her head in disbelief – what had possessed her to buy them after all… Other items had been around forever and a day and she hardly wore them any more, so it was about time to let go of them. She was sure someone else would appreciate them – the charity shop where she usually took things she didn’t want or like any more was very popular, and you could see all kinds of people there – not only people who were on a budget. And Camille herself had also found a few really good pieces there already.

She folded piece after piece and put everything neatly into a box – wow, had all that stuff really been sitting in her closet? It felt good to let go of it… actually, she felt like she was in the process of shedding her skin… It was a metaphor for her life in general, she assumed – she had been changing inwardly for a while already, and now she was also making changes on the outside by saying goodbye to things from the past that didn’t ‘belong’ to her any more.

Her mind wandered back to the afternoon when she and Richard had closed down the station and he had told her about the Commissioner’s visit. She still was completely perplexed – of course, she was more than pleased that this would give them the chance to get together without having to fear that one or both of them might get reprimanded or even transferred. And of course, the gossipers still would tattle and prattle, but at least they wouldn’t have to fear professional consequences. Upon thinking about it, Camille just wondered about one thing: How had Selwyn Patterson got wind of her attempt to leave Saint Marie? And how could he know that her job application hadn’t been successful?

She hadn’t told anyone but her mother and Richard – and Richard obviously had kept the matter to himself. She had put down the Commissioner as an official reference address, but given the fact that he had never spoken about it to her, she was fairly positive that the French hadn’t contacted him, but relied on their own records – she had worked there for long enough... Had she given him any indication that she was thinking about leaving? No, not really – she only had casually remarked at one point that she’d like to have a change some time, and that could be interpreted in any direction. He may have noticed that she had been feeling restless, but again… that could have many reasons and wasn’t necessarily connected to wanting to leave the island and heading into another direction - professionally.

So, that left only her mother – she must have told him – both about the application and about the rejection. How and when she had done that – Camille had no idea. But it didn’t matter – the main thing was that she had actually done it.

Camille giggled when she realised this – so, she had to thank Maman for being able to go out with Richard after all. That was really ironic. She remembered how vitriolic her mother had been about her affection for Richard – but then again, she didn’t know him well, and from the outside, he really could appear cold and distant. It had taken her long enough to break down his fences… it was highly unlikely that anybody else had ever made an effort like that.

Well, whatever – Maman surely hadn’t intended to put the Commissioner on Richard to make him distract her – Camille – so she wouldn’t leave. Also, apart from Richard, she had told only her mother that the job hadn’t worked out – and that had been after the storm…

Ah, the storm… Camille still felt a tiny little bit embarrassed when she thought about how she had seduced Richard. Really, ‘shameless’ was the only appropriate expression for her behaviour. But she didn’t regret it – it had absolutely been worth it.

As if her thoughts had had a telepathic effect, her phone began to buzz – and it was Richard. She accepted the call with the smoky voice that she knew made him all flustered, saying “Hello Richard,” - and he was speechless for a moment.

Obviously, she couldn’t see it, but he was blushing at the sound of her voice.

Finally, he came to his senses again and asked nervously “Hello Camille… Have I interrupted you with anything?”

“You mean, apart from tearing me away from thinking of you? No, you haven’t. I was just boxing clothes for charity – which is a dead boring task, so I’m glad you called to distract me.”

“Oh – um… well, I wasn’t exactly planning on distracting you… but… have you thought about a place where you’d like to have dinner with me? Outside of Honoré, preferably? Just wondering… I mean, I don’t want to appear – er – pushy…”

She laughed. “No worries, Richard – I feel very flattered that you want to get ‘Mission Save the Team’ on the way as quickly as possible and make me reconsider my plans regarding leaving Saint Marie… Seriously, though, would Friday be okay? We would have to book a table in advance, of course – on weekdays it’s usually not a problem to get a table without a reservation, but weekends are busy everywhere. What do you think about that restaurant in Saint Antoine, ‘La Mouette’– have you been there before?”

She wasn’t surprised when he said ‘no’. Richard was many things – but ‘adventurous’ was not really one of them, and so he had spent the past years since his arrival in his shack most of the time – and in and around Honoré, obviously. Fairly much the only places that he had been to were crime scenes and their neighbourhoods, the airport and the ferry terminal, her mother’s bar and a few other places that they had to go to for official get-togethers – and the police facilities on Guadeloupe, of course.

She gave him a brief description of what the restaurant was like and what they offered – French and Caribbean cuisine, that included seafood as well as other dishes, and Richard was optimistic he’d find something on the menu that he’d like. So, they agreed on giving this a try.

“Right… I’ll try to get a table there for half past seven then. If that doesn’t work out, we might have to settle for eight, though. We’ll have to drive there and back again… maybe you could pick me up at seven – or half past, respectively? Oh, and Camille… Will that cause any problems for you in regard to – er – I mean, maybe you’d rather want to help out your mother on Friday? Just an idea…” He said it hesitantly.

Camille thought he was sweet in his consideration for her situation. Of course, that was what you sort of expected when you were freshly involved with someone, but she had made different experiences in previous dating situations – where men simply had expected her to say yes to every suggestion they’d made and hadn’t understood that she might have obligations, duties and interests apart from dating them.

She responded “No, no – that’s not a problem. Maman has already told me that Alex and Billy will be there, so she won’t need my help. She even suggested I’d go somewhere and have fun… I will disappear and not say anything about where I’m going – I have done that often enough in the past, and I don’t think she’ll see anything strange in it. And if she does, I doubt she’ll confront me at the moment – she’s too concerned about keeping peace, and she knows I won’t be happy if she kept too much of a watch on me, if you know what I mean.”

She then continued to tell him about her suspicion that it might have been her mother who had maybe instigated the Commissioner to turn to him and ask him to pull out all the stops so she would not continue to apply for other jobs.

Richard snorted. “That is really funny. Considering how cold she’s been towards me for quite a while now I would have thought she’d think of a way to keep me away from you rather than throw me in your direction… I’ve had the feeling she’s been really upset with me for a while now, so I don’t know what to make of that. But well, I suppose she couldn’t know what the Commissioner’s reaction would be. In any event – er – I’m glad it all turned out that way.”

He paused. Then he said “Er… Camille… I have been shopping – er – grocery and stuff today – for tomorrow evening. Would pasta and salad be okay with you, or would you prefer anything else? A risotto maybe? I’d have the ingredients for that as well. Or if you like, I could get some veggies during lunch break tomorrow? I’m afraid I’m not all that brilliant when it comes to cooking – but – er…”

She was touched by his efforts and said smilingly “Don’t worry. Your omelette was fine. And I love pasta as well as risotto, so I’m open to both. Wait, you already have all the stuff for the salad, don’t you? If you want me to, I can get bread and fresh chicken breast on the way, and we’ll have a mixed salad with chicken, what do you think? I have a cooler where I can keep the chicken breast so it won’t go off. And of course, you don’t have to do it all by yourself, we can fix dinner together – actually that would be fun, I think…” They chatted on for a little while without really saying much of substance, but neither of them wanted to end the call.

Finally, they felt it was time to come to an end, and Camille made him happy by saying “That was lovely – thank you for calling, Richard. I couldn’t quite decide whether or not I could call you at this time,” – it had already been close to ten when he had callled – “so I’m glad you did it.”

He was silent for a moment. Then he said “I’m also glad. As it is, I just wanted to hear your voice, you know…” He sounded entirely genuine – and a little surprised by his own words, Camille thought. In any event, it was nice of him to say that… He had clearly become a little better in talking about his feelings, although he still was rather reserved. She knew he would never be outgoing or particularly demonstrative, but she realised that this was okay with her. For a long time, she had wanted to reform him – but now she realised that this was pointless and presumptuous. If anyone had wanted to reform her, she wouldn’t have liked that, either – so why had she assumed she had the right to reform him? It was not that she had a philosopher’s stone that told her what was right or wrong…

Of course, that didn’t mean she couldn’t try to take influence and make him understand that some of his behaviour patterns weren’t helpful and basically just made things harder for him (and everyone else around him, too!)… She smiled as she picked up an old gym top that would go into the recycling bin and put it in the bag she had provided for that purpose…

They’d have more time to talk about their forthcoming date tomorrow night when she’d visit him at his shack.

***************

The little bungalow on the beach sat in darkness. Richard had gone to bed shortly after he had talked to Camille. He wasn’t asleep, though. It was too hot, and his mind still was busy. He was indeed a little surprised about how happy it had made him to hear her voice.

Actually, he had been a bit afraid of today – he had been worried that she might act more provocatively at work, and that he might find it difficult to deal with their new ‘situation’. It would have been hard for him to get through the day if she had worn anything too flashy or behaved in a teasing way. He knew that she liked to wind him up, and she could easily have done that in her own playful way.

But no, nothing of that kind. She had been very complaisant today, and she hadn’t behaved unreasonably or inappropriately, even when they had been alone in the station. She seemed to understand that he had to find his feet in this new situation, and he was grateful that she didn’t put him under pressure and make him do things he wasn’t comfortable with.

He thought back to her last visit to his house – yesterday… only a little over 24 hours ago. Today, he had spent much of the day with her – at work, of course, but they had been together… and they even had had a few moments of privacy. He had just talked to her on the phone. And yet, he was already missing her.

He felt a little silly – he was over 40, and here he was, feeling like a teenager in love… but he couldn’t help it, he really missed her. He wanted her to be there, right now. He wanted to see her, feel her, listen to her, touch her…

At that point, his thoughts became a little less coherent as he remembered the curve of her hips, the scent of her perfume, the smoothness of her skin… He chided himself for being a silly fool, turned over and tried to sleep. Eventually he managed to distract himself by reciting multiplication tables in his mind. And still… His last conscious thought was “Tomorrow…”

******************

On Tuesday, Camille noticed that Dwayne and Fidel were exchanging odd glances when Richard showed up, and they clearly listened very intently to everything he said. Now, that shouldn’t have been anything unusual, but it was striking how focused they were – as if they didn’t want to miss out on anything or were waiting for a hint to confirm a suspicion they had.

She couldn’t quite figure out what that all was about, but it made her even more cautious in her actions towards Richard. She watched herself and focused on behaving naturally - they exchanged a little banter, there were raised eyebrows, there was some bickering, there were the usual job-related conversations… so in one word, all was ‘normal’, but still it felt like the boys were observing the situation and gauging every reaction that Richard showed.

At first she thought they had perhaps noticed that the relationship between her and Richard was different, but then she realised that this was paranoid – they couldn’t possibly have noticed as she and Richard made big efforts to act within their established behaviour patterns. There were no longing glances, there were no secret messages or e-mails… everything was the way it used to be before from the outside. They had only reached this new level of closeness over the weekend, so it was all way too new, and Dwayne and Fidel wouldn’t have had the time to notice a change yet. She was convinced of this. So, it had to be something else – but what?

She found out on the way to La Kaz – they all decided that they needed a drink after work. Camille would have to leave at half past seven as she had a class at her gym at eight – she had considered cancelling it so she could see Richard a little earlier, but then decided it wouldn’t be wise to change her routines too openly. And after all, it wasn’t healthy to give up on all activities because of a budding relationship – they both needed time apart just like they needed time together. She was old enough to know that much… plus she certainly didn’t want to overwhelm Richard and appear too clingy or needy. He wouldn’t like that – and if she were him, she wouldn’t either. They both were independent in their own way, and she liked that.

As they walked to her mother’s bar, Dwayne engaged Richard in a little chat about motorbikes and cars in the Caribbean and the UK – and about how common - or not - sidecars were in the UK. Camille chuckled as she overheard parts of their conversation – she remembered only too well how scared Richard had been at first when he had to go to places in the sidecar. She had found that extremely funny, but of course it hadn’t been funny for him…

During his first year on Saint Marie, they still had had the old motorbike - the sidecar had been fixed on the wrong side of the bike – it had been equipped for left hand traffic originally, and nobody had ever bothered to change that. Dwayne had got the bike from Dominica where left hand traffic still was the rule by law – Saint Marie, however, had right hand traffic, just like Guadeloupe. Historical heritage, she figured – nobody could explain where that came from.

Eventually, though, they had got a new motorbike, and that was equipped for right hand traffic. Richard had been incredibly relieved that he didn’t have to sit in the middle of the road any more – that had been nerve wrecking, to put it mildly. He still didn’t like riding in the sidecar (which also had to do with Dwayne’s adventurous driving style), but it was a lot better now than it had been before with the old bike.

Fidel walked right next to Camille, and she noticed that he was deliberately slowing down his pace and letting Richard and Dwayne go ahead of them. The distance between the two pairs increased slowly, and finally Fidel spoke up and asked Camille “Camille… do you have any idea why the Commissioner showed up yesterday? Originally, I thought that it was only about the renovations, but Dwayne said he had a longer conversation with the Chief – who looked really thoughtful when he came into the office again, so we have been wondering… My initial thought was that maybe the Chief would get a promotion, but then Dwayne and I got into thinking… could it be that the Commissioner informed him about a forthcoming possibility for a transfer? I mean, it has to be something important, otherwise the Commissioner wouldn’t have shown up in person. And we’re not on a noteworthy case at the moment – so, that can’t be it.”

Camille listened attentively and tried to figure out what to say in response to Fidel’s question. She couldn’t reveal the Commissioner’s real reason for coming, that would have given away details that she didn’t want Fidel to know. She didn’t want to lie and make up anything, either.

So she said thoughtfully “Well, I don’t know… the Chief hasn’t told me anything about a promotion – and I’m sure he would if that’s going to happen… he’d invite all of us for drinks or so at least, don’t you think? -, and I don’t know anything about a possible transfer, either. I don’t think, however, that the Chief would have confirmed the appointment with Eddie for tomorrow – you know, about the fusebox and wiring in his shack, you heard him speak to him, didn’t you? – if he knew that a transfer is in the pipeline. I mean… where would be the point in getting things updated in the shack then?”

“You may be right,” Fidel admitted. Then he said “It’s just that the Commissioner apparently was very serious and – er – almost stern, as Dwayne described it. Would you – I mean… if you find out anything, would you let us know? I don’t think the Chief wants to leave any more at this point… I suppose he wouldn’t have come back from the UK all those months ago if he had planned to leave again really soon… but well… you never know, and if there’s anything we can do to take influence on his decision, then – er… we’d do whatever it takes to keep him here.”

That confession made her smile. Fidel had respected Richard from the first day on and had been very impressed with his shrewd and intelligent way of solving cases, and he was eternally grateful for Richard having recommended him for the Sergeants’ exams. She had not worked with Charlie Hulme herself as she had only joined the team after his death, but the stories she had heard had made her hair rise. She was all for flexibility, but even she just shook her head in disbelief when she heard from her colleagues how life at the station had been with the old Chief.

Richard had once told her that Lily had described Charlie Hulme as ‘charismatic’ and ‘relaxed’, but that didn’t really say much. Maybe she had only said that to provoke Richard who clearly had been irritated by everything on Saint Marie. According to Dwayne and Fidel, Lily had been a little sneaky and underhand sometimes – although it had been hard to put a finger on how exactly she misbehaved. She had taken advantage of Charlie’s laxness, that much was sure.

Apparently, Charlie Hulme had principally only spent a couple of hours in the station every day and had hung around in bars during the remainder of the time, ‘networking’ or ‘maintaining contacts’ and leaving the work to Lily, Fidel and Dwayne. No wonder that Lily had felt offended, almost insulted, no matter how convenient it had been for her in many ways – and no wonder that Dwayne had mostly been busy with all sorts of shady business out of his regular job. And – obviously - no wonder Fidel had felt disoriented and frustrated.

She said softly “I know. I feel the same way. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know, Fidel.” She felt that was all she could say at this point. She couldn’t possibly tell Fidel that she and Richard had moved on to a new level in their relationship, and she couldn’t reveal that the Commissioner had been worried about her applying for a job abroad. She felt a little deceitful, but it was useless to dwell on that – all she could do was maintain a straight face, act normally, and let things unfold.

At La Kaz, they all had a drink together. They all wanted cold drinks – with one exception, of course, so Catherine brought tea for Richard. Was she a little friendlier than during the weeks before? He couldn’t quite decide if the small smile she came up with was an improvement, but at the moment, he didn’t care too much. It would become important when Camille and he would finally inform her, but for now, he could live with whatever way she behaved, as long as it wasn’t open hostility.

Camille turned down Dwayne’s offer to get a cocktail for her. “No, I’ll stick to juice, Dwayne. Thank you, anyway – I’ll have that cocktail at another occasion. I must leave early tonight, because of my gym class – I really shouldn’t drink alcohol before, you know.” She turned to Catherine who had just brought her second glass of mango juice. “Thanks, Maman!” Her mother smiled warmly and said “No problem, darling. So you’re going to be late again tonight?”

“Yes, I think so. Don’t wait for me. I still have enough stuff in the fridge, so I can fix myself a salad or something, or I’ll just get some street food.” She had done that before – taken a shower at the gym and grabbed food at a stall before taking a walk on the beach or getting together with a friend for a chat – so she knew her mother wouldn’t find anything strange about her coming home late.

Eventually, it was time for her to leave. She got up and made her goodbyes – Richard nodded in her direction when she left – apparently absent-mindedly. But she noticed the conspiratorial gleam in his eyes…


	18. Passion – and Longing for Privacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's another chapter for you... Enjoy :-) I hope someone is still reading this, although it's turning out rather long... I promise, there's a concept behind it all!

Richard left La Kaz at a quarter to nine – it was already dark, but he knew his way home, and he was excited at the prospect of having Camille around later on. It was humid and windy, but nothing compared to the atmosphere before the storm. He didn’t rush, so it took him a little longer than usual to get to the beach.

Twenty minutes later he was at home. He threw off his jacket, undid the tie and pulled out the tails of his shirt to feel some air on his skin. He had just opened the shutters and veranda doors and thought about taking a shower when he heard the Rover stopping on the beach. Good heavens, she must have broken a record – or come via zero altitude flying…

He walked out and saw her zooming towards him in the twilight – still in her gym clothes, a tote bag in one hand, the cooler with the chicken breast in the other. Before he could properly admire her slender figure in the heather grey shorts and tight cherry red top, she had dropped the bag and the cooler on the veranda and was in his arms.

“Finally…” she whispered. “I thought the class would never end!” He laughed softly, clearly pleased with her eagerness, and began to kiss her. When his lips moved from her mouth to her neck, she half-heartedly tried to fend him off: “I’m all sweaty and disgusting… wait…” – but to no avail. He just mumbled in between kisses “So am I… was about to shower… but that can wait…”

Her body pressed against his, and in an instant, he was transported back to Sunday when she had showed up at his place with the snacks and fruit. It had felt so good to hold her, and he wanted to feel that way again… right now. On Sunday, he had been able to hold back for a while, but not so today… her presence was electrifying, and he had waited for this moment all day long.

Camille had never expected such an open display of affection, given his usual reserved attitude and his general restraint in the office over the past two days, but it delighted her. He didn’t stop kissing her, and as she responded with passion, he didn’t see any reason for discontinuing their activities. Having a shower wasn’t that urgent… So they waltzed and shuffled into the shack until they reached the bed and fell on it, in a tangle of limbs.

His hands were everywhere, and Camille began to laugh, giggle and gasp as he tickled her senseless. “Stop it, stop it” she begged. He did as requested, but then his hands – oh dear… his hands drove her crazy! - became more tender and slowly moved under her top, stroking her lovingly, unclasping her bra and discarding the other garments on the way. He was beginning to fondle her breasts, his lips were caressing her neck, and she gasped for air. “But I smell terrible,” she objected feebly, “… and I’m sticky and…” “Hmmm… and wonderful… and sweet… and appetising… and just perfect…” was the whispered reply.

She didn’t resist any longer – he seemed quite sure of what he wanted, and to be honest, it was what she wanted, too. Besides, he obviously didn’t mind her indecorous attire (or what was left of it), her wild, damp hair and sweaty skin. So, as resistance was futile, anyway – she flung her arms around him and pulled him closer, muttering “Well, if you insist… I’m not complaining…”

Weaving her fingers in his hair, she marvelled at his spontaneity tonight. Given his usual reservedness, this was more than remarkable. Very soon, the semi-darkness was filled with their happy sighs and moans, murmuring voices and playful laughter.

When they were finally showered and had eaten their dinner it was already quite late. Much to Richard’s amusement, Camille had discovered after showering that she had neither brought her tote bag nor the cooler into the shack – so she had snatched one of his T-shirts from the laundry bin, put that on and gone out in the boxers she had usurped from him last time already – they were sitting on a shelf in the bathroom, neatly folded - and retrieved her bag from the veranda. She also brought in the cooler, and they finally prepared dinner together.

She decided, though, that for now, she preferred the clothes she had borrowed from him – so she stayed as she was, and after she had sautéd the chicken and they had prepared dinner together, she sat down at the table, wearing his blue-striped boxers and the T-shirt.

To Richard, she looked fabulous.

But Camille noticed that he had a hard time looking into her eyes during dinner…

The salad was delicious, the bread was fresh and soft, the wine had the perfect temperature. They sat at the same table where they had had their candlelight omelette in the night of the storm - Camille remembered how tense the atmosphere had been on that evening…

And now… she sensed that Richard was embarrassed or worried about something and wondered what direction his thoughts had taken. His mood had shifted – from being elated and happy to – what? He was playing with his fork that rested on the paper napkin beside his plate – and suddenly he said ruefully “Camille… I - I’m sorry for – er – not stopping and – er - pouncing on you like that… I shouldn’t have done that. I – er – I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.” He looked up and added “I don’t know what came over me… You know that I’m not… - er…” His voice died away.

It took her a moment to understand that he had an issue with reacting to her instinctively, with not being used to losing control, with not asking ‘officially’ for her consent – and that this was why he was worrying and apologising to her – and at the same time, he was trying to understand his actions. He was baffled by himself.

She smiled warmly at him and put her hand over his so he would finally stop fidgeting. He looked down again and avoided her gaze.

“Richard… Richard, look at me!” Her voice was soft, but firm. He looked up again, and much to his relief, he saw nothing but love and understanding in her eyes. “You haven’t forgotten that I’m pretty good at self-defence, have you? If I hadn’t wanted this, I would have pushed you away and – er – showed you my unwillingness… very clearly! I didn’t say no, did I? If I had, I know you would have respected it. You’re not the type who’d walk all over someone and ignore their wishes… I came here to see you, and I’ve never pretended I don’t want you the way you want me… You haven’t put me off, and I certainly don’t think any less of you because you – um – got carried away. I had all sorts of innocent ideas about having a relaxed, easy evening with you, but already when I was in the car, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I wanted to be with you… You don’t have to apologise for anything – I wanted it just as much as you did… and if you haven’t noticed, I got carried away, too. And I didn’t exactly ask for your consent in the night of the storm, either…”

His hand turned around to hold hers, and she felt a gentle squeeze – that she returned instantly. “It’s just that I’m not – er – used to this…” His voice sounded insecure. “It’s been so long… and I’ve never… I mean, if I ever knew how… I have totally forgotten… and I don’t want to make a mess of it…”

Camille understood that he was struggling – she could see where he was coming from. He had had a traditional upbringing in a rigid boarding school, years of bachelorhood had made him set in his ways, there hadn’t been a ‘corrective’ to help him loosen up, and passion hadn’t had a place in his life – unless it was passion for a hobby, or for his job.

She gave him a tender smile and said “Well, if it’s of any consolation – I’m not used to it, either… and I’ll be confused sometimes, too. We’ll get there, Richard – it’s a matter of time and communication.” She got up and took the plates and the cutlery to the sink. He followed her slowly and hugged her from behind as she began to do the dishes. “Thank you,” he whispered in her ear. She just smiled and said jokingly “But don’t you think I’ll do the dishes everytime I come to spend the evening with you!” He raised his eyebrows and said deadpan “Oh, you won’t? Too bad! I thought I could convince you this way…”

They both laughed, and the tension was gone.

It was past midnight when Camille finally left the little bungalow on the beach. They had spent the remainder of the evening talking about their situation, among other, more general topics. Obviously, the Commissioner’s ‘intervention’ had changed things, and Catherine’s change of heart made everything easier as well. Camille had also told him about her conversation with Fidel, and Richard had been gobsmacked. He hadn’t thought that his officers would suspect he’d consider a transfer. And he was touched by their loyalty.

“I wish the Commissioner had said something about a promotion,” he had remarked in response. “But no such luck – at least not yet… I hope it will happen eventually. But if it doesn’t, then so be it. Although I think if I persist for a little longer and just keep the crime rate low over here, they’ll end up giving me a promotion just out of pity. I don’t care.”

They had discussed how to proceed from here, and Richard had promised to make a reservation at ‘La Mouette’ for Friday evening. As soon as their first official date was done and over with, they could relax a little. If the Commissioner turned a blind eye and Catherine didn’t interfere, they could see each other in public more regularly and take it from there. However, their already existing private relationship would have to remain secret for a little longer, obviously… but it was only a question of time until they could come out with that, too.

***************

Camille switched the air conditioning to a lower level so she could sleep comfortably without being disturbed by the noise. For Richard’s sake, she hoped that Eddie would find a way to fix the fusebox and improve the wiring in the little shack – it was really awfully hot in there, and a fan would indeed bring some relief. Remorsefully, she remembered all the times she had teased him about feeling hot and uncomfortable. She understood better now…

Certainly, the woollen suits that he had insisted on and his general attire hadn’t made it easier, but in all fairness, the shack was a disaster with its tin roof, and there hardly was any breeze, even with the shutters and doors open. Obviously, a fan wouldn’t do much more than whirl around the air, but it would make a little difference. Well, at least he didn’t wear his stuffy suits around home any more, that was already progress.

As she got ready for bed, she wondered if she might be able to coax him into wearing shorts at home – but dismissed the idea immediately. She imagined him in a pair of the currently popular checkered shorts and shook her head. He was not really the type for that. He might wear bermudas in a neutral colour, but that would be about it. And maybe he would learn to appreciate the beach more with time and try to swim in the sea eventually… She tried to imagine him in swimwear… He wasn’t the type for speedos – definitely not, no. She giggled at the idea of him in a pair of tight, brightly coloured speedos – no, no, no… that wouldn’t do. Very few men looked good in them, anyway, and – well, he wasn’t one of those. Loose-fitting swimming trunks or watershorts, yes, that would be an option, in a moderate colour…

But for the moment, that was out of the question, anyway. It would take him half a lifetime to feel confident enough to shed most of his clothes in public and walk around in shorts only, not to mention that his skin was very fair and sensitive, so he had a point in covering up.

And really, it wasn’t a problem for her. She knew that he’d always be ‘traditional’ in his way of dressing, and she didn’t want to change him… she only wanted to point out alternatives... These had to be realistic, though. It wouldn’t make sense to suggest bright colours – he was pale, his stance was conservative, and striking colours and busy patterns would only make him look ridiculous. She had seen more than enough men making fools of themselves by wearing clothes that were absolutely not their style. So, it had to be muted colours, as he liked them, and a style that he could get used to.

He had a hard time getting used to new things, anyway. That applied to literally any department in life – but he could do it. She was still impressed with how he had got used to the limited technical equipment over here, and he had learnt to do without forensics and ballistics – or at least with not getting the results quickly. He had learnt to make compromises in other fields, too – like he had somewhat adapted to the climate – or rather, he had made small adjustments that made his life more comfortable. He still couldn’t quite get people’s mentality, but he didn’t criticise it any longer. At least not constantly… He had got used to living by the beach and even appreciated some aspects of that life – despite being paranoid about sand in his shack…. So, while he found it difficult to make changes, he made them, anyway – one after one, step by step.

Their new relationship also was something he had to get used to. Camille had noticed over the past few days how he had struggled… it had been obvious to her that he was excited and happy, but also that he was insecure and nervous. She thought back to how he had asked her forgiveness for literally sweeping her off her feet and not being able to wait and take things more slowly – she had been touched by his honest apology – not that she would have needed one, but it just showed her once more how decent and fair he really was. He tried so hard not to upset her – without being ‘subservient’ or servile – it was heartwarming, particularly bearing in mind how used he was to not having to consider anybody’s wishes but his own.

Well, this relationship would take a lot of patience from her side. But then again, he would have to be patient with her as well – so they’d be even. Now that she had made her decision and jumped into the deep end, she was determined to do everything to make things work. Before she finally fell asleep, she grinned as she recalled how deftly he had opened her bra – he had cottoned on quickly how those clasps worked… another thing he had picked up swiftly! He definitely had a knack for technical stuff!

******************

The following days went by with few incidents. The weather was calm – mostly… they only had had one downpour during the week. Work at the station was slow, but they all put in their regular hours and tried to keep themselves busy. Every once in a while, something happened, but it was mostly petty stuff, so there was no investigation that Richard could dig his teeth into, and he felt a little restless. Well, there were the forms and reports to take care of… Also, Nick and Eddie had sent their invoices, and Richard had asked Fidel to copy them and send the originals to the Government House, along with a short letter, so that was out of the way, too.

Dwayne and Fidel went for market patrols regularly, and Richard had even asked them to bring him a pretzel or a bagel again for lunch. They still found it hard to believe that the Chief had finally given in and started to eat what he classified as ‘street food’ – although it wasn’t quite that, really… the bakery was a clean place, under constant supervision of the authorities, as far as hygiene was concerned… But it was a novelty, and they marvelled at this sudden change after over two years of strict refusal.

Camille reviewed old notes and kept working at the database she wanted to establish. The manual she was writing was slowly beginning to take shape, but she made an effort to double check everything, and it turned out to be more time consuming than she had anticipated. She had asked Dwayne and Fidel to read parts of what she had written and try and solve a few sample tasks – not everything had turned out according to her expectations, so she had to formulate things differently, take screenshots to underline examples, write and re-write, edit and re-edit.

“I’ll be glad when this is finished,” she remarked to Richard one afternoon. “You’ll have to read it and let me know what you think about it some time – I have no idea how good it really is. You know what it’s like – you write and write, and at the end you don’t know any more if it makes any sense at all. I’m saving it all on the general server, so we all can access it in case we need it.” Richard just nodded his approval and said absent-mindedly “Good idea. I’ll have a look into it one of these days.”

“Chief, what has come out of your appointment with Eddie?” Dwayne was desperate for some distraction – he hated it when things were going slowly at work. Richard looked up and replied “Oh, yes, Eddie… he came round yesterday evening, along with his assistant. I still haven’t quite figured out why he took him along – he’s completely useless, a waste of space, really… all he does is hang around, gawk and make stupid remarks. Anyway. Eddie was all ‘oooh’ and ‘aaah’ about the house, liked the ‘atmosphere’ and everything…”

Richard raised his eyebrows. “Whatever, he fixed the fusebox – turned out that with some – er - bad luck, I could have blown up the entire house… and as you said, Dwayne, the wiring in the shack is a nightmare. Eddie said he can do something so the power will be more stable and I can plug in a few more devices, but it’ll never be what he calls ‘modern standard’.”

He sighed and continued “Ah well. I think I may get that done, and it should make things at least a little more convenient. For the time being, that’s enough. Who knows how much longer I’ll be there – and whoever will live in the shack after me will have to get renovations done then, anyway, so they can get it rewired according to their wishes…”

When he said that, he thought about perhaps wanting to ask Camille to move in together at some other place with more modern conveniences and amenities eventually… not yet, not right now, it was way too early, but given some time, they might want to make that move… Richard knew precisely that the one advantage of his shack currently was its isolated location which implied a certain privacy. He had always appreciated living a bit out of the town of Honoré, and for a single man it was okay – he had got used to the place with time, and he didn’t have to pay much rent, so it was all good, but in the long run, it would be too inconvenient if he and Camille stayed together.

It was crammed, although he tried hard to keep things tidy and not let clutter creep up. He hated clutter. But there wasn’t any extra space. Camille would want to bring clothes sooner or later so she didn’t have to bring an extra outfit if she ever stayed for an entire night, they might want to invest in a coffee maker or other appliances to make life more convenient, they would perhaps want a settee so they could snuggle up there while they were reading or watching TV… Of course, that was all pretty much the proverbial pie in the sky for the moment… they hadn’t even been together for a week at this point!

But Richard knew that despite his fears and worries, he wanted this relationship to work out and last, and even though the idea of marriage still was far, far away for him and Camille, he knew that they would want an everyday life together eventually. And there was no way he’d move in with Camille at her current place. He wanted privacy, and having Camille’s mother right next door would make that impossible. Compromises were good and well, but there were some things that he couldn’t compromise on…

Dwayne and Fidel interpreted his remark in a completely different way, however. They looked at each other, apprehension and confusion in their eyes. Maybe Fidel’s idea that the Commissioner’s visit meant a possible transfer wasn’t so far off the mark after all? Fidel just shrugged silently, and Dwayne pulled a face. Richard didn’t take note as he had already turned to his work again.

But Camille noticed their bewilderment. She arched her eyebrows and looked at Richard – she was puzzled, too. Hadn’t he said that moving was not on the agenda? But well, she could ask him tomorrow – he had reserved a table at ‘La Mouette’, and she hoped they would have a chance for some privacy afterwards as well. If not – then there’d always be the weekend… she could ‘go to the beach’ again, nobody would think there was anything strange about that…

Her mother hadn’t become suspicious when she had come home so late on Tuesday night. Actually, she hadn’t even noticed because she had already been fast asleep when Camille had entered the house well after midnight. In the morning, she had only asked if Camille had had a nice evening. Catherine was determined not to interfere with her daughter’s life – at least not to the same extent any more. It was hard for her not to ask questions that had been natural to ask for such a long time – but Camille’s recent blow-up had made her understand that she had been pushing too far without realising it and cornering her daughter in a way that she couldn’t stand any longer.

This unexpected side-effect of her tantrum made Camille very happy – she realised now that the situation had strained her quite a bit, and now that the stress was gone, she felt much more at ease. However, she couldn’t help but notice that it would all have been much easier from the start if she hadn’t moved into her mother’s house when she had come back to live on Saint Marie permanently after her undercover work had been finished.

When she had returned to the Caribbean and just visited Saint Marie from time to time, she only had had a room in her mother’s flat – the other flat had been rented out. The tenant hadn’t prolonged the lease, however, so Catherine had used the flat as a holiday apartment for tourists for a while, but when Camille had come back to Saint Marie for good, she had given up on that and let Camille have the flat. She paid rent, but Catherine had made her a good price, so she had no reason to complain. Only later, she had discovered that a certain loss of privacy was a price she had to pay on top of the money.

She hadn’t minded so much at first, and in some situations it had been great to have her mother nearby. She loved her dearly, and it was good to be together again after several years of separation, only interrupted by the occasional odd visit. But when Catherine had begun to get more pushy about settling down and getting married, she had started to get annoyed and eventually weary, and the continuous series of blind dates had done her in.

Camille was fairly sure that all that wouldn’t have happened if she had not lived so close to her mother. She also was well aware of how difficult it would have been to ‘extend’ a date in her own four walls, even if it had only been for a drink. She loathed the tricks and pretexts she had to use now that she had got involved with Richard – there was no way she could invite him to her place for a mere glass of wine – not to mention him staying for the night. If she had a place of her own in the ‘suburbs’ of Honoré or at some other place, that would be different…

She’d have to discuss that with Richard sooner or later, she decided. Even when they’d finally be able to be open about their relationship, she knew that he would never ever come to stay at her place – so they would have to find a way out of this dilemma…

As she looked in his direction again, he seemed completely absorbed by his tasks again. She wished she could read his thoughts…


	19. Time Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter to distract you from what's going on in the world... Hope you'll like it!

Friday came, and Camille woke up with the feeling that it was a special day. Oh right – tonight she and Richard would have their date. She was excited – more than she had expected. After all, they had already moved past dating stage… but still, this would be special. She was looking forward to getting away from Honoré and its ‘party mile’ for the evening. Saint Antoine was a much smaller and more quiet place… and ‘La Mouette’ wasn’t one of the ‘hip’ restaurants.

It was a favourite among those who wanted to avoid the crowds and the noise. The owners were friendly and discreet. The guests usually were people who wanted some peace and quiet, there also were a few families who came regularly. There wasn’t anything spectacular about the place – it was nicely decorated inside and out, but hardly flashy or shiny, and there wasn’t any loud music trying to attract people. The menu wasn’t overly long, but all food was homemade. Despite the inconspicuous appearance of the place, it was hard to get a table on weekends…

Camille had sometimes gone there with Aimee when the two of them had had something specific to discuss. With Aimee, she had often discussed all sorts of things – they had also shared much laughter and silliness, gossip and rumours, obviously, but their friendship had gone deeper than that.

Once Aimee had tried to get drunk at ‘La Mouette’ – that had been when a guy she had set her heart on had dumped her in a particular mean way – it was called ‘ghosting’, as Camille had found out later. He had just disappeared and not reacted to Aimee’s attempts to contact him again, and on that particular day, Aimee had found out that he had got married to another woman on Guadeloupe. She had been devastated and wanted to get drunk so she could forget her misery, no matter how much Camille had tried to talk her out of this stupid idea.

But after the second cocktail, the owner, a sweet lady in her early sixties, had come to their table, sat down and said softly that she wouldn’t help Aimee to get plastered as she knew that wouldn’t make her feel better in the end. However, if Aimee wanted to talk, she’d listen – and before Camille had understood what was going on, her friend and the lady had been knee-deep in a conversation about men, love, life, dignity and self-respect. Aimee hadn’t got drunk that evening – and she had been forever grateful that the restaurant owner had given her the gift of her time. She had talked to Camille before, obviously, but that had been different – she had needed something else. Camille hadn’t been hurt or offended – she had been thankful that the lady had taken over when she hadn’t known what to do.

Ever since, Camille had held this place and its owners in high esteem. She had never gone there with any of the blind dates that her mother had set her up with. This had been her and Aimee’s place, and after her death, she had only come here by herself a couple of times when she had needed to get away from Honoré. The fact that she’d go there with Richard tonight was a testimony of how important and special he was to her. Of course he didn’t know that – yet… But she’d tell him eventually.

As much as Camille enjoyed a good party – she knew that life was more than that. ‘For everything, there’s a season’ was her motto, and so far, it had been a good rule to live by. She liked going out and having fun, but she also liked deeper discussions, and during her years in Paris, she had not only gone out to dance in the clubs, but also spent quite a few nights sitting up in pubs and discussing the world news, social justice, political currents and undercurrents and all sorts of other things with colleagues as well as acquaintances and friends.

She had studied hard during her training, but focusing on that hadn’t made her blind to what was going on in the world. Her ethnic background hadn’t always made things easier for her on the continent, and she had become tough – the experiences she had made had sharpened her mind further. Obviously, she was a very intuitional person, and she could be a little random, but she also had a mind for logical deductions – maybe she was not as analytical as Richard, but she wasn’t inferior when it came to finding arguments and reasons for her points of view.

Richard was the first man in a long, long time who saw more in her than just a pretty face. The pretty face – that had actually served as a handy mask for many years - had attracted, but also scared him and made him keep his distance… Over the past year their conversations had become a little deeper, though – Aimee’s murder and then later the night in the lab had been catalysts there, and there had been a few more moments in between. Little by little, they had shown each other their real faces… Camille had been playing the part of the ‘island beauty’ perfectly until her friend got killed, after that, her façade as well as his had chapped little by little, and they had talked more openly.

Unlike others, Richard did not doubt her intelligence. He was sometimes baffled by how willingly she believed in things that couldn’t be proven scientifically, but that didn’t mean she was stupid in his eyes. Just not always consequent or logical – but that was a very human feature, after all…

Their recent conversations had been about all sorts of things, not only personal stuff, and while there hadn’t been any serious arguments, they had indeed entertained some controversial viewpoints – and instead of blowing up and insisting on his opinion, he had listened to her arguments, agreed with some of them, but picked others apart – in an entirely civilised manner. He had taken her seriously and discussed with her on ‘eye level’.

And the way he treated her when they were not talking… well, that was definitely special – so ‘La Mouette’ was the place she felt was appropriate for their first official date…

On her way to work, she had a certain swing in her step, and when she climbed up the stairs, she was literally jumping. Richard was already there when she arrived. He sat at his desk, looking intently on the screen of his computer. She also saw Fidel behind his computer – so there was no way they could exchange a more personal greeting, but well… never mind. Richard looked up, raised his eyebrows and said “Ah, Camille… bright and early, huh?” To Fidel, it sounded entirely normal, and he didn’t even look up, but Camille saw the twinkle in Richard’s eyes.

They had developed a certain pattern over this week – and much to her relief, they had not given themselves away so far. She had been a little afraid that people would see right through her and guess why she was more balanced and happy again… Of course, it helped that Catherine made an effort to keep out of her business – she had been Camille’s main concern. And the fact that Fidel and Dwayne were preoccupied by the Commissioner’s enigmatic appearance was helpful, too – they were on the wrong track and didn’t even consider observing her.

The day was just as uneventful as the previous ones had been. The only remarkable incident was a massive downpour around noon that made Dwayne and Fidel postpone the ‘market patrol’. When they finally could go, the bakery had run out of chocolate croissants, and Fidel phoned Camille to find out what she wanted to have instead. She decided to have a cupcake – other than that, nothing remotely spectacular happened.

At around four, Dwayne began to fidget – he was seriously getting bored. He had done all his tasks for today, and he wanted to go out with a new lady friend tonight, so he was a little restless. As he knew that he couldn’t possibly leave earlier than Richard without permission, he tried to keep himself busy. He rummaged around in the little spare room, spent some time parading in front of the mirror in the corridor, and made everyone nervous with his fussing.

Richard endured this valiantly until half past four, then he was at the end of his tether. He glared at Dwayne and said a little stand-offish “Now, Dwayne… before you drive us all crazy here, do us a favour and check your appearance one last time – and then zoom off. I can see that you’ve got – er – ants in your pants, so whatever it is that you have on your agenda for tonight – go ahead and get ready for it!”

Dwayne beamed at him and opened his mouth to say something, but Richard just glowered at him and added “And you better move fast before I change my mind!” The older officer shot him a wide smile, saluted snappily, and exclaimed a brief “Thank you, Chief!” … and then he was gone.

Richard, Camille and Fidel heard the motorcycle roar outside, and they all laughed in unison. “New flame?” Camille asked, and Fidel nodded, smiling cheerfully. “Just met her, from what I know. Not sure how long it will last, but for the moment, he’s on cloud nine!” Camille giggled. Then she said “Oh, Fidel – if you need a ride home, I can take you, no problem…”

She sent a pleading look in Richard’s direction – who said drily “Right. I see that you’re determined to abandon me here… Just go ahead and hit the road! I don’t think anything important will happen during the last half hour…” Fidel excitedly closed the file he had been working on and said warmly “Thank you so much, sir – we’ll have the in-laws coming for dinner tonight, and the earlier I’m home, the better… Rosie has a tendency to get difficult these days when Juliet is busy with cooking and stuff – and it’ll be helpful that I can come to the rescue!”

Richard just nodded and said “Have fun… and say hello to Juliet. I’ll see you on Monday then…”

As they got into the car, Fidel said to Camille “Is it only me, or is the Chief a little more mellow these days? I mean, he hasn’t complained about the weather lately, although it’s been quite awful at times, then there are the pretzels, and now he lets us leave early… I hope it doesn’t mean he’s beyond caring and will move on to another more exciting place soon. Did you hear what he said about the wiring in his shack? Man, that really shook me up!”

Camille admitted that she had no clue why Richard would say something like that – and it was the truth, after all. But she didn’t comment Fidel’s further musings – she didn’t want to lie, but she didn’t want to give him the impression that she knew more than him, either.

When she returned to her flat, she realised she wouldn’t have all that much time left for getting ready – but she knew what she wanted to wear, so agonizing over her wardrobe would not be a part of tonight’s date preparation. She didn’t have to worry about pulling up necklines, securing bands with double-knots in bows, covering bare shoulders or avoiding low cut camisoles or whatever there was – she knew that Richard wouldn’t grope her or do anything inappropriate… at least not unless she asked him to!

So, it just was showering, getting dressed, styling her hair and putting on a little make up. She packed a tote bag with some utensils and an extra outfit – just in case… - put on her shoes – no high heels, but no flat ones, either… they might have to walk a little from the car to the restaurant, so heels weren’t very practical – and left.

Maman knew that she would be away, but she hadn’t told her where she was going or with whom. She got into the car, popped in a CD, rolled down the window – and off she went. She sang along happily to the music and greeted a few people along the way.

She left the main road and turned right to take the gravel road to the beach where Richard lived and took the curve with a spurt of sand and pebbles – and totally missed the slightly dismayed-looking driver of the car approaching on the opposite lane.

“Good heavens… wasn’t that Camille?” asked Lizelle Patterson with a mildly shocked voice. Her husband nodded gravely and said thoughtfully “Surefire, sweetie. Interesting… and on a Friday evening…”

“What do you mean, Selwyn?” “Oh, nothing, nothing. Just… er… never mind. Would you do me a favour, Lizelle, and keep it between the two of us that Camille just took that road leading down to the Inspector’s house? I don’t think it’s advisable to – er – feed the island grapevine with this little detail, alright?” Mrs Patterson had long since given up on asking her husband for reasons when he asked her for a favour with this particular voice, so she just nodded and said – with a little smile - “As you wish, Selwyn.”

Down on the beach, Camille tooted the horn, and as Richard – in slacks and a dress shirt (no tie, though!), with a jacket over his left arm - came around the corner of the shack, she leant out of the window and called “Hello, Inspector – here’s your cab!” He smiled and came closer – she got off the car and he stopped short when he saw her dress. Her eyes sparkled, and she smiled lightly. “My… you look stunning!” he finally stammered. Then he regained his composure and added “But you know that – I’ve said it before…”

“I hoped you would remember…” she replied. “When you saw me in it last time, I wore it for a blind date that I wasn’t particularly looking forward to… as soon as I saw you on the patio, I got excited, though… and I was disappointed when it turned out that… well, you know. I had wanted it to be you whom I was wearing it for – and here we are! With more than a year delay, but never mind…”

He came closer and touched her cheek with his right hand, caressing her with his thumb - and then pulled back. Camille felt a little pang of disappointment, but then he leant in to kiss her – very lightly and a little shyly, as if he was afraid she’d disappear. “Let’s go,” he whispered, “we don’t want to be late for our date, hm?”

He had a point there, she decided. Although they actually were rather early, they set off for Saint Antoine. They were both a little giddy and excited, and although they talked about all sorts of everyday things during the ride, they felt the tension in the air. Finally, Camille said “We’re doing it all backwards, huh?” Richard gave a nervous little laugh and admitted “You’re right. I don’t really know why I’m jittery – I mean, I’m not jittery, as in jittery… I’m just – er… oh well! Jittery, I guess. We’ve done more already than just go out for dinner. But – er – still…” She nodded. “I know. It’s like we’re making it official, and that feels a little – well… strange.”

Camille thought that it was endearing of him to admit that he was nervous. But well, he was decidedly different from all men she had met before, and this was just another proof of it.

When they arrived at ‘La Mouette’, the owner greeted them and showed them to their table. She turned to Camille and said “What a lovely surprise to see you again, Mam’selle Camille – you haven’t been here in quite a while!” Camille smiled and responded “Yes, I know… but tonight, I’m going to spend the evening with someone special, so I thought that’s the perfect reason to come here.”

Richard was impressed with the place. There weren’t overly many tables, so there weren’t lots and lots of people, there was enough distance between tables so there was some privacy and you couldn’t overhear other people’s conversations, and the decoration was moderate, but elegant and unique. Camille hadn’t promised too much regarding the quality, either – the food was excellent, the staff was attentive (yet discreet), the wine was delicious… it was a wonderful evening. They were relaxed and talked about everything and anything – from childhood memories over movies, music and theatre to travelling. Camille just took little sips of her wine and mostly drank water because she knew she’d have to drive home, but Richard had two glasses, along with a bottle of water, and they both had coffee with their dessert. They took different dishes and shared – it happened automatically, in silent agreement.

As they tackled the second half of dessert, Camille said “Mind you, Richard – you shocked Fidel today with your remark about not knowing how much longer you’ll stay in your beach bungalow. He’s scared to death that you might want to leave and move on to a more exciting place!” She said it lightly, but he sensed that she was confused, too. He took a bite of the Crêpe Suzette and said “No place could be more exciting than Saint Marie. You are here, so what else could I be looking for?”

She smiled, but admitted that she was puzzled, too. He wasn’t willing to reveal his thoughts completely – wouldn’t she think he was taking it too far, too quickly? Plus… if he talked about it, it would be out there in the world, and it couldn’t be taken back – that didn’t seem wise! -, so he settled for something that sounded plausible and included her to a certain extent and explained “Well, you know, Camille, now that I have a really good reason for staying here, I have considered looking out for a slightly bigger and more convenient place. It’s a little tricky – on one hand, I like living by the beach and being away from the centre of Honoré. On the other hand, you know how hot – er – it can get in that little bungalow, and sometimes it feels a little – um – claustrophobic. It will be difficult to find a place that’s within walking distance from town, yet far enough from people, if you know what I mean. I don’t want to depend completely on a car, and we don’t even have to discuss public transport, so… But I will keep my eyes open – that’s what I meant. And it’s pointless to invest buckets of money into getting the shack renovated – we both know it’s a money pit.”

Camille nodded thoughtfully and took a sip of her coffee. “You want a good mix of privacy and infrastructure, as I see it.” He looked at her, surprised at how she had brought it to the point. “I understand because I would like to have the same thing,” she explained.

He looked at her inquiringly, and she sighed. “Stress with your mother?” he asked tentatively. “Not really stress… you know that we have patched up, after that huge row we had the other night… And she’s really trying… and so am I. But well… sometimes I wish I was a bit further away and could live my life without being questioned all the time. It sounds so selfish, and I know that Maman only wants the best for me. And most of the time we live in peace. But the last year has been – difficult for me. On one hand, it was good to be so close to Maman – that gave me a lot of comfort. And she’s really fun to be with – most of the time. But I also need space – not only in the physical sense of the word! -, and that’s not always so easy.”

“I think you and your mother get on amazingly well,” he said. “Living so close to my parents would drive me insane – and it wouldn’t suit them, either. But of course, our relationship is different, and the two of you kind of grew together as a ‘unit’ when your father – er –left. It must have been hard for your mother when you went to France.”

“Hmmm. That’s right. She knew, however, that she couldn’t hold me back, and that it was the only way for me to get proper training in a field that I really was interested in. It was my ticket to the world, to a career, to freedom and independence… When you arrived on the island and my undercover job – er – finished, Maman let me have my old room – she had used it as a guest room during my absence, and whenever I came to visit, I stayed there. You may remember that when Aidan Miles appeared on the scene, I was considering moving out as I saw Maman and him getting closer. But then that fell apart – fortunately! – and I stayed, shortly after that, the tenants left, and it seemed like a good idea to take over the flat. It was just convenient.”

She fell silent and took a spoonful of Crème Brulée. Richard asked “Was that – er – arrangement one of the reasons why you wanted to leave?” Camille looked up and said pensively “I guess so. I couldn’t have rented another place because she would have felt offended, and also, it would have been more expensive. It seemed pointless. But anyhow… The blind dates she arranged where a symptom for a host of different things. I’ve told you all about my doubts regarding relationships, the ‘settling down and having a family’ thing, and so on. I felt like – well, I felt like I wasn’t allowed to run my own life, and I wanted to move on and run away from that. Overall, Maman and I get on well, and we have a really close relationship. But that doesn’t always make it easier. In principle, she’s all for people doing what makes them happy, but in my case, it was… as if my refusal to do the ‘usual thing’ made her proud on one hand, but on the other hand she wanted me to do precisely that… the usual thing! As if I was only ‘experimenting’ and might come to my senses, if only she’d find the right man for me since I seemed to be unable to do so…” She sighed and paused for a moment.

Then she continued “She always encouraged me to go out with different men so I’d find out what I’d like in a relationship, but since I failed to succeed, she had to pick them for me – and it was my task then to play along and well… find out if I liked them well enough to pursue a relationship. You know, as in the saying ‘you have to kiss many frogs to find your prince’ or something like that…”

She laughed a little unhappily. “I haven’t kissed them all – far from that - but there have been way too many unsuitable frogs in my life, Richard.” He looked at her, compassion and a little concern in his eyes, and said – feigning lightness – “Well, your mother was selective… she didn’t pick just any old frog hopping around, they all were handsome, tall and successful, in one word ‘shiny’, weren’t they…”

Her gaze met his, a dimple appeared in her cheek as she smiled, tilted her head to one side and said “Yeah, well… but I have it from an expert that looks can deceive, and at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter if someone is shiny from the outside – it’s other things that count more, and the not-so-shiny frogs are definitely worth a second glance. Or a third. And sometimes even looking at toads can be rewarding.”

He took her hand, smiled and said softly “Some frogs hide behind a toad’s appearance. I know from experience… Anyway, this particular frog is happy that you took several glances. He didn’t dare to hope you would, but well, just in case… he didn’t have the nerve to hop away, either.”


	20. Thoughts about the Future

It was dark when they left the restaurant. They continued their conversation about independence and living arrangements on the way back to Richard’s place. He admitted that he had been too lazy to look for something else – also he had been afraid it would be seen as a commitment that he wasn’t quite ready to make at that point.

“And you know, living by the beach has its advantages. It might sound a little crazy coming from someone like me… You know, I’m not particularly fond of the sand in the bungalow and several other typical side effects of the location, and of course, it’s dreadfully primitive, but there are other things that I do like – first and foremost the sound of the waves. Helps me to unwind after work, you know. As I said, the isolation also suits me. It’s not too far away from town, but not within the hustle and the bustle, either.”

Camille laughed. “That makes Honoré sound like a major city of world format! Really, Richard, you have lived in London! I would rather think you’d consider Honoré a ‘hick town’ – or whatever you call it.”

“I call it a benighted godforsaken place,” Richard said with a twinkle in his eyes – she couldn’t see it, but she heard from his voice that he was talking in jest.

She snorted and said – just to wind him up - “Yeah right, I forgot – Saint Marie is pretty much the last place in the world where you wanted to be.”

“Hmmm. That’s right. Now that you’re saying it… I have no idea why I’m staying. No, seriously, Camille – the thing is that Honoré is just the size of town where you can’t melt with the masses… simply because there are no masses. There’s no anonymity, either. Which is a good thing, in general. But also a bad thing because people gossip, stick their noses into stuff that’s none of their business and will annoy you by asking you the most personal things without even understanding that they’re invading your privacy.”

She shot him a quick sideways glance. She couldn’t see much in the dim light of the dashboard, but he seemed genuinely peeved now. She understood his annoyance, though. There were situations when she, too, was annoyed because everyone seemed to think her life was general discussion material for all the neighbours. Most of the time, she didn’t mind – as long as it was good-humoured harmless gossip, it was fine. But at other times, it was more than she could bear – when people got malicious and venomous and said hurtful things about others or spread lies, just in an attempt to start negative rumours and make others look bad.

They began to talk about what it had been like to live in London and Paris, respectively, and before they knew it, they had reached the beach and stood right in front of Richard’s shack. Camille stopped the car, shut off the engine and waited for a moment. She was just about ready to make a teasing remark and turned towards him, when Richard surprised her by taking her hand and saying thoughtfully “Now, that was the nicest date that I’ve ever had. Not – um - that I’ve had many, but it definitely was everything one could wish for. So far.”

Then he added, playing with her fingers, “Do you think it’s okay if I’d ask you to come in to have – er – a drink at my place? Or is that sort of thing reserved for the ladies being dropped off in front of their houses by their – er – dates? I mean, with the role reversal here… I’m a bit unsure… how to go about…”

He was clearly poking fun at her now, in his own slightly twisted way, and Camille couldn’t help but laugh. “You mean, you’re inviting me to come into your shack because you’d like to show me your stamp collection or something?” she asked.

She couldn’t see his face, but heard the smile in his voice when he replied “If you insist, I’m sure I could dig out a few Queen’s heads, and with some luck, my mother has perhaps even used a commemorative stamp on her Christmas letter that I could show you…”

He began to kiss her fingertips, her wrist, her palm and then the inside of her arm up to her elbow – he had always thought this was a very romantic way to show one’s affection, and fortunately, she seemed to feel the same way – with a happy sigh, she slid her other arm around his neck, pulled him close and whispered “Right… I’m sure you’ve got lots and lots of interesting things in that shack of yours… and I can’t wait to discover them all. Let’s go!”

****************

Quite some time later, Camille snuggled up to Richard under the sheets and asked softly “Hmmm. What other collections do you have besides stamps?”

He pretended to ponder her question and finally responded “I’m sure I can think of something. What about – er – coasters? Or paperclips? Or would you perhaps be interested in – um – tea tins?”

She laughed, then she remarked a little dejectedly “I wish I could invite you to my place just like that, too. I’m not saying your shack isn’t good enough, but I have a fully equipped kitchen, we could cook together, my living room is nice, and I have a really comfortable big bed with an excellent mattress… But the way things are…”

He raised his eyebrows. “Your mother?” “Yes, I’m afraid that kind of holds me back.” “Well, never mind, Camille – we have this place, and while your mother is nice and all… I don’t think I would want to see her first thing in the morning when leaving the house for work. Or – worse yet – her waiting for me with a broomstick,” – she interrupted him, reminding him that according to what he had said in the night of the storm, she was the witch, not her mother, so he went on to say “or – um - some other blunt instrument she could hit me with, in the middle of the night when I’d be sneaking out of your place so the neighbours couldn’t see me. Imagine the island grapevine focusing on the local Chief of Police having an affair with his Detective Sergeant – and her mother hitting him over the head with a rolling pin – I can’t wait for that…”

She couldn’t help but laugh at the picture… however, she understood his point. Honoré just was such a snake hole when it came to ripping apart the neighbours and their news, and Saint Marie wasn’t big, so whatever happened, it would spread quickly. They couldn’t afford to become the hot topic of the island, so he was right, they shouldn’t even try to spend time at her place.

“Patience, Camille,” she heard him say. “It’s only been a week, and we – er – we shouldn’t – I mean… you might get fed up with me rather sooner than later, and what then?”

She protested and said vehemently “Do you think I don’t know what I want? I may be a bit random sometimes, but really… I’ve known you for well over two years now, almost three, and for quite a big fraction of that time, I’ve been aware of how much I wanted to be with you… I just couldn’t decide whether or not you liked me and if I really wanted a relationship at all. I always knew that if the answer to both was ‘yes’, I’d go for it. Do you think that I’d let you down again just like that? I’m not that capricious!”

Then she added more softly “Time is funny, isn’t it… you’re right, it’s been a week since the storm, and while on one hand it all seems so new, it feels like we’ve been together forever already on the other.”

“Yeah, I know… it all seems to fall into place naturally, doesn’t it?” He sounded thoughtful. “I never thought this would happen to me, Camille… so I’m a little – er – afraid you might disappear at midnight or something like that.”

She shifted so she could kiss him and said a little breathlessly then “You know, you’re mixing things up. The princess - won’t pull off the disappearance act on the frog – shiny or not – and I’m determined not to turn into a pumpkin or something like that at any time of the night. But of course, the frog has to do a little more than just sit around and – er – ogle!”

“Oh, does he… forgive me, beautiful princess… wait a moment, weren’t you supposed to be a witch? Well, whatever – as long as it’s you, I don’t care! I’ll do my very best to – um – keep you entertained…”

And with that, he pulled her closer, his hands began to wander over her body again, and she gasped in delight. “Better?” he asked, his voice muffled as his lips were caressing her.

“Much better…” was the decidedly enthusiastic response.

******************

Just before dawn, Camille went to take a shower, put on a pair of black shorts and a soft yellow top that she had stored away recently in Richard’s bathroom ‘just in case’, and then tiptoed back to the bed where Richard was still sound asleep. She had scribbled a brief note that she put on his nightstand, secured it with his phone… and then she left. She wanted to be back at her place before Catherine woke up.

On the way back home, she sighed several times with frustration. She so wanted to be open about their relationship. But Richard was right. They had to be patient. It was a first step that the Commissioner had more or less given him permission to take her out and forget about the rules – she had been sure he wouldn’t mind, just as long as they were discreet. Now, her mother had to be convinced that Richard was just the right man for her. And then, they would have to find a way to be together without getting interrogated and teased constantly. She just wanted to be with him, and she didn’t feel that she owed anybody an apology or even just an explanation. It amazed her that she would feel so sure about this relationship after only a week, but that was the way it was…

She parked the Defender in another street around the corner. That way, her mother wouldn’t know precisely when she had come home – before or after midnight. She hated herself for being so sneaky, but for the moment, she didn’t see any other possibility. The street was quiet, no curtains moved or twitched, so she hoped she was safe. She was extra quiet when entering the house, and much to her relief, all went smoothly. The last time she had sneaked into the house like that had been as a teenager when she had been out with a bunch of friends and forgotten time. Her mother hadn’t been angry – she had been disappointed. And that had been much harder to bear than any kind of lecture she could have given Camille. She wasn’t keen on a repetition of this experience.

As it was so early and the sun had just come up, she decided to make the most of the morning, changed into her running gear and left the house again to get some exercise.

The run helped her to clear her thoughts and feel balanced again. When she stepped into the shower for the second time this morning, she had made up her mind to do her best and follow Richard’s suggestion – to try and have an ‘official’ date at least every other week, and in between, they’d continue to see each other after her gym class and then either on Saturday or on Sunday.

They’d see one another at work, of course, but they’d have to be professional there. They could do that. It was a matter of practice, she figured.

At least they could talk privately in the car when they were driving to crime scenes as well as in the mornings when she picked him up for work. She wanted to spend quality time with him, and their conversations counted as quality time for her – unless they argued. But harmless bickering and bantering with him was quality time, too – it actually was fun.

This relationship wasn’t mainly about the sex… When she had seduced him, it had been about more than just the ecstasy of one night – or about sex in general. She wouldn’t have bothered if it had only been about that. If she had wanted a fling, she could have picked just any of the handsome beach boys who came to her mother’s bar, but that hadn’t been the point.

No, it had been about him. It had been about trust, about being close, about wanting him in her life.

Intimacy was more than just sex. Yes, she had wanted him… for who he was. For some reason she had fallen for this awkward, slightly broken man. She didn’t know why, but there was no way around it. She wanted him, nobody else.

And she had known that she had to make the first move... It hadn’t been as easy for her as she had made it appear – after all, it had been a while since her last relationship, and she had never instigated anything like that with a man before… whenever she had ‘seduced’ someone, it had happened in an already existing relationship and had been more a slightly frivolous game than anything else.

With Richard, it had been completely different – he had tried to appear indifferent to her female assets. There hadn’t been any sign from his side that he found her attractive – until she had caught him looking at her on the day the storm hit, she hadn’t known where she stood with him. When his feelings and desires had become this obvious, she had known that she would have to overcome his inhibitions, his self-doubts, his insecurity. She had not been sure if he was ready yet – but if she hadn’t tried, the opportunity would have gone by, and who knew when a new one would have turned up?

Once she had touched him, though, she had known he wouldn’t be able to resist her. His spontaneous and instinctive reactions to her when he had been half asleep had showed her that he wasn’t averse to getting touched and caressed by her – it had been her secret fear that he might have a general dislike of body contact… However, once the dam had been broken, all had gone well… much better than she could have hoped for.

But although this part of their connection was wonderful (and she was amazed at how much they were in tune with each other in that department), the conversations, the banter, and the warm feeling of belonging together were the foundation. The physical side was the cherry on top of it all – and a seal that established their union.

********************

In her flat next door, Catherine woke up slowly and heard the shower running in Camille’s part of the house. Camille was early… but maybe she had gone for a run as she sometimes did on weekend mornings. That was pretty much the only time when she could do this, and while Catherine never had been inclined to do any regular exercise, she understood why Camille had to do it. She had to keep fit for her job, and also, she found it necessary for her inner balance. That was the drawback of the hurricane season – with the less predictable weather, it was harder to do outdoor activities like that.

Surfing or swimming were daytime activities, but it was too hot to run during the daytime, so… Camille had always been into moving and doing sports. She hadn’t done any watersports in a while now, and when Catherine had asked her about it, she had said that she was out of shape for surfing due to lack of practice – and swimming in the Caribbean was hardly more than paddling in the bathtub. She couldn’t do any laps in the ocean, and since she liked to have a goal like doing 20 laps within a certain time, that wasn’t very satisfying for her, from an exercising point of view. Every once in a while, she went to one of the waterfalls and swam in the pools there – the water there was deeper and colder than in the ocean, obviously. Still, it wasn’t really much of a sporty experience, according to Camille. Catherine thought her daughter was a bit too competitive sometimes, but well, that was the way she was…

She turned over and thought about the past week – things between her and Camille had become better since she had apologised. She was dying to know what Camille had been doing on the evenings when she hadn’t been home, but she had promised not to pry, and so she had no choice but wait and see. It was obvious Camille didn’t want to talk about it. Well, as long as she didn’t get into difficulties, there was no reason to worry – and Catherine admitted to herself that she wasn’t really worried – she was actually only curious. Others would perhaps have called her ‘nosey’.

She wasn’t proud of that. Not at all… Maybe she should focus more on her own life again… It wasn’t that she had been living vicariously through Camille – she was busy with all sorts of things - but after the disaster with Aidan Miles, she hadn’t given anybody a chance to get closer to her. It hadn’t been due to lack of interest and attention from other men – there had been several who would have liked to get to know her better, but the letdown she had experienced back then had discouraged her.

Perhaps it was time to let go and move on… she certainly wasn’t too old or too disillusioned to find love… She hugged her pillow and imagined what it would be like to be in a relationship again. It wasn’t that she absolutely needed a man in her life, but she admitted to herself that it would be nice. Provided they’d be able to trust each other – at her age, everyone came with baggage, and she had her own baggage as well.

Well… maybe she’d be a bit more open when the next one came along – just to see where it would lead her.

****************

“Do you think that Catherine has any idea that Camille visited the Inspector yesterday night, Selwyn?” asked Lizelle Patterson as she was pouring her husband another cup of coffee. Breakfast on weekends was special for the Pattersons as they had more time together, and their conversations went beyond the typical weekday mornings’ grunted ‘hm’ and ‘yes please’.

The Commissioner looked up from the newspaper and said thoughtfully “I don’t think so, Lizelle. I’m not sure I want her to know, either – at least at this point. I have informed Poole that Camille has considered leaving, and he had had no idea… It seemed to me that he was completely taken by surprise – although with him, you never know. He’s always rather nervous around me, so that doesn’t mean anything, but his eyes kind of glazed over when I mentioned she had intended to go to France. I think he feels more for her than he really wants to admit, and Camille isn’t unaffected by him, either. I told you how excited she was when he returned from the UK months ago…”

His wife nodded and said “I know. You also said that when you see them together, they seem to bicker all the time, but it has changed – it was aggressive, from what I remember, but now it’s more like bantering and friendly teasing, if I got that right?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “And they seem to have some kind of secret code going on – they just work together very well, and she’s absolutely loyal to him now. I told him that I don’t want to lose Camille – and he knows I won’t let him go, either. I want this team to keep working together – they’re doing a brilliant job. It’s none of my business if the ‘non fraternisation rules’ are respected or not – they’re a pile of bunk, anyway, designed for places where you have plenty of positions and can transfer people from one station to the next. As long as people do their job properly, I won’t interfere. I told him that much, too – well, in more words, and not as plainly as I’m telling you now… but I guess he got the message. I also said he should see to it that whatever it is that makes Camille unhappy will get rectified – and soon. Seems he hasn’t wasted any time… he might be a stuffed shirt, if I have ever met one, but once he knows what he wants, he can be rather persistent. I’m pretty sure that they have gone out for dinner or something. I hope he hasn’t ruined it!”

Lizelle smiled and said “Oh, Selwyn, you are so clever! You think they have fallen in love?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, but anything else should surprise me. I want to give them some time to find out, and then we’ll take it from there. If Catherine finds out too quickly, she will make a song and a dance, sparks will fly, and Camille will get all rebellious and make a big stink – and Catherine will come running to me… no, I certainly don’t want that. I think they should be left in peace, and we’ll just see how things will develop. If I’m not mistaken, they will sort it all out, and eventually they’ll make a decision. Poole isn’t the sneaky, dishonest type – he will approach me sooner or later, once he has thought it all through… So, for the moment, I think Catherine should be left in – er – blissful ignorance.”

He grinned at his wife and said “You know what, I’d love to be a fly on the wall when she finds out!”


	21. A Quiet Weekend

Richard had been warned beforehand that Camille might be gone in the morning, so while he was a little disappointed when he didn’t find her upon waking up, he wasn’t alarmed or upset. He found her note, smiled at the big (asymmetric) heart she had drawn around her scribble and sank back into the pillows again.

It had been a particularly satisfying experience to peel her out of this red dress – he had hardly admitted it to himself, but he had secretly been fantasising about this on and off for over a year, since he first had seen her in it. It had come up more or less frequently in his daydreams. And no matter how exhilarating his fantasies might have been – reality had been much, much more exciting. He had done everything that he thought she might enjoy, touched her, kissed her and caressed her in every possible way, and much to his delight she had responded enthusiastically.

Whenever he had allowed himself to think of her in ‘that’ way over the past year or so – usually he had tried hard not to get carried away and let his fantasies take over, but it had happened occasionally, anyway - he had never been quite able to imagine her reactions, and it was definitely reassuring and flattering that he could light the fire of passion in her. His lips curved in a smug smile… she had been very impatient to ‘get to the point’ after he had stripped off her clothes…

He was very pleased with their first ‘official’ date. Not only had they had a lovely time together in the restaurant, the remainder of the evening had gone extremely well, too. It was hard to believe that it had only been a week since the night of the storm. But well, the calendar didn’t lie… And although the physical side of their relationship was more than amazing – for lack of a better word – it wasn’t just that… The time they had spent together just as a twosome had been so much more than this. They had had fun conversations – some deeper, some not so deep – and he had got to know facettes of her personality he hadn’t expected to see.

It was so touching how she opened up to him, how she talked about her past, her feelings and her thoughts, how she really wanted to know how he felt about things, how she listened to his ramblings… that hadn’t always been the case! He knew that he could be a bit long-winded sometimes, and she had got impatient with him in the past, but with time, she had learnt that he didn’t waste time on things he didn’t consider being worth getting discussed. So, while she still got impatient sometimes – she heard him out. That was a fairly amazing development… and it had happened so gradually that he had hardly noticed it. But really, since Aimee’s death she had become more patient with him in general, he could see that now.

It struck him how she could come across as tough and stroppy in one moment, in the next moment, she was all feminist and emancipated, and then again, she was cuddly and soft… Most of all, he was amazed by the variety of subjects they covered in their conversations and the easiness of their communication. Sure, they didn’t always agree on everything – they hadn’t done that ‘before’, and they wouldn’t do so in the future – but they never struggled to find things to talk about. It was never awkward or weird to have her around, either.

How had he survived without her in his life for so long? What would have happened if she hadn’t decided to make a move on him? He would have continued to work with her, attempting to only see her as a colleague, admiring her secretly and trying to rein in his feelings for her, thinking she was out of reach for him, anyway… Or she would have applied for a transfer and abandoned him, frustrated and hurt because he hadn’t given her a sign that he cared indeed very much for her…

Despite the heat in the shack, he suddenly felt cold. What if he had returned to London after the first year? What if he had not come back to Saint Marie after having escorted Vicky Woodward to the UK after the second year, several months ago? What if she had given up because of his cool and indifferent behaviour towards her? He didn’t even want to think about it.

Determined to shake off the suddenly so dismal thoughts (a waste of time, anyway, as he knew), he decided to get up and start the day. His foot touched soft material as he stood – and he noticed that her dress was still there, crumpled in a pile on the floor. He smiled, picked it up and laid it out on his bed. Had she left it intentionally, or had she simply forgotten it? Whatever… He took out a hanger and put it away neatly so it wouldn’t get creased too badly.

***************

Camille was glad that she had taken the opportunity to go for a run in the morning. She had eaten a good breakfast after her shower – alone this time. She could have gone to Catherine’s to see if she was up and have breakfast with her, but she wasn’t ready yet to face her mother…. not when the memory of last night still was so vivid in her mind.

For a moment, she closed her eyes and recalled the feeling of Richard’s tender hands and lips on her skin and how he had caressed her in the process of undressing her… it had almost been a celebratory act!

She knew instinctively that it had had to do with the dress… He had not allowed her to move or touch him while he had taken off her clothes, slowly, carefully, one piece after another, drawing it out for as long as they could possibly bear it – and by the time they had finally fallen on the bed together, her skin had tingled all over, and her body had been burning with desire. It hadn’t taken her longer than a few minutes to divest him of his clothes – quite the contrast to the slow, tantalising act of worship that he had performed when he had removed her dress and the few other garments she had worn, but she just hadn’t been able to wait any longer! She had wanted more – and presto, please! - and as she had kissed him voraciously, things had heated up really quickly.

And the ‘pillow talk’ afterwards had been so sweet… It had been a long time since she had felt so close to someone. Who would have thought that Richard could be so considerate and thoughtful? And so funny, almost silly, on top of that… Of course, she had known that he had a brilliant sense of humour, and she had always suspected that he wasn’t as cold and rational as he appeared to be, but this – this was definitely more than she had anticipated.

Strangely enough, her previous relationships had never been this intimate – the communication had been different. Perhaps the difference was that she and Richard had not fallen in love over a casual flirt – they were friends, first and foremost. She giggled – well, at first they hadn’t been friends at all… but they had got there eventually. They still bickered, and every once in a while she wanted to punch him, but there was so much affection in it now…

And to imagine that she had almost left him for a job in Paris… She didn’t even want to think about it.

Although she knew that it was a little silly, she feared Catherine would see right through her air of balance and poise, tell her she was in love and try to find out who the man in question was. She could just imagine the look on her mother’s face when she’d find out it was Richard…

Ah no. She couldn’t risk that, not at this point. Not when everything was so new.

So she decided to spend a little more time in her flat and look through things that had accumulated there. She hadn’t been living here for very long yet, but still it was scary to see what she had ‘collected’ with time. Also, there were still a few boxes from her childhood and teenage times that Catherine had saved – it might be a good idea to try and chuck out a few of the things in there…

This turned out to be a trip down memory lane. Camille found several old pocket calendars and notebooks that she had used as diaries – she had never been the kind of person to write down her thoughts coherently in a narrative style – or in a letter writing style, as others did – but there were notes and fragments of thoughts, sketches and drawings… she shook her head at some of the things she read and looked at. The feelings of teenage angst and worries washed over her as she read a few of the old ‘entries’, and she laughed out loud at a caricature of one of her old teachers she had drawn in a rage. She decided to keep these things – they were part of her past, and for the moment, she didn’t want to part with them.

There were other things, though, that could go. Old drawings, cinema tickets, school tests and papers, half a ton of gel pens that had run dry, and long forgotten trinkets and knick-knacks. She filled one of the boxes with the papers – she would put them into the shredder in the office on Monday. Another box was filled with frills, ornaments, and ‘bric-a-brac’ – no point in keeping those, they’d go into the bin.

Like the wardrobe decluttering, this had a liberating effect on her. She was ready to move on. She sat back on her heels and looked at the pile of stuff that she wanted to throw out. It would do her good to finally get this out of her life. She suddenly wondered what it had been like for Richard to leave everything behind when he was transferred to Saint Marie. And he hadn’t had any time to get prepared! He had casually remarked that during his last visit in the UK, when he had accompanied Vicky Woodward, he had called in at the storage place where some of his belongings had been stored – and he had discarded most of the stuff.

Some boxes had been sent to his parents for further storage, some items he had taken along to Saint Marie, but the bigger part of his stuff had been jettisoned. “I’ve never accumulated much, you know,” he had said. “Just books – and the ones I care for are here now. I donated all others to charity shops. Maybe someone else will enjoy them just as much as I did at the time I had them.” He had been completely unsentimental about it. So, he could rent out his house without any traces in it. All items there were universal, impersonal, generic. For someone like him who hated change and tended to hang on to habits, that was a remarkable trait.

And his bungalow was neat and tidy. There were a few personal things, quite a few books, his precision optical instrument, his clothes – and that was it. He used dishes, appliances and kitchen utensils that had been there when he arrived… Camille wondered if he ever missed his teapot or his favourite mug… She had never bothered to ask.

She remembered her time in Paris – she had shared a flat with other people for a while, then she had lived by herself… she had never owned a place, and she had never felt the desire to do so. She had left and started over in different places several times, and she hadn’t thought much about it. Just like Richard, she had never had much stuff. There were her clothes and shoes – those could be replaced, though. There were a few personal items, photos and favourite souvenirs, but other than that – not much.

Then she had come back to the Caribbean – again, the same thing. When you did undercover jobs, you had to be ready to leave at any given time, so accumulating stuff wasn’t wise. You had to live a ‘generic’, average, unspectacular life that contained all essentials, but it wasn’t a good idea to get too attached to things. Or to people, for that matter…

It all had changed when she had finally returned to Saint Marie – and here she had also been confronted with her past. She had closed her eyes to it until now – at the moment, however, she felt the urge to go back and reflect, maybe in an attempt to find closure – but unlike it had been her habit in other places, she had started to accumulate stuff. Had she done so because she had finally found her place, or had it been an attempt to silence the voices in her head? She didn’t know. Whatever, right now, she rather felt the need to let go. She had the feeling of standing at a crossroad – she felt that she was entering a new stage in her life, and she needed to leave things behind.

Around noon, she finally took out the boxes and went to the bins to get rid of the things. On the way back, she knocked on her mother’s door. Catherine was pleased to see her, and they chatted for a moment. Camille agreed to help her out again in the evening. She was glad that her mother didn’t ask any questions – she knew she was curious, but for the moment, she kept her promise of not interfering.

Catherine was a little taken aback when she heard that Camille had been decluttering, but then she smiled and said “Well, you have tons of space for new things now, isn’t that great?”

Camille thought secretly that she had tons of space to leave empty now, and that she didn’t want to fill it up with stuff again, but she said vaguely “Oh, I don’t know. It’s actually nice that I can put the things I have a little more on display now, and the clothes don’t get creased any more in the closet. It wasn’t so bad with the trousers, but the blouses sometimes really were quite crumpled – they just didn’t look so nice, you know, and I had to iron them more often than I would have liked.”

Catherine just nodded and then wanted to know what other plans Camille had for the weekend. She hoped she’d find out a little more about what Camille had been up to lately – but she didn’t get to hear anything spectacular. Her daughter just told her that she would meet up with Juliet in a café in the afternoon – Fidel had offered to look after Rosie – and that she might spend Sunday on the beach again, depending on the weather. Nothing was unusual about that, and Catherine was a little frustrated for a moment – but then she remembered how she had promised herself as well as Camille that she wouldn’t pry, and with a little sigh, she wished something would happen so she’d find a little distraction. It wasn’t good that her thoughts kept revolving around her daughter’s life… she should really try and find a project to dig her teeth into!

*****************

It was nice to get together with Juliet – they chatted about all sorts of things. Juliet gave her a humorous rundown of her parents’s visit. Apparently, Rosie had been a little difficult, and her mother had said that she was taking after Juliet – they had almost got into an argument from there. Camille chuckled when Juliet concluded “And that was when I realised that my mother was right. But I tell you what - I’d rather be shot than admit it! I’m sure Rosie will say the same thing about Fidel and me one day, but really… Parents can be such a pain sometimes!” She laughed, and Camille agreed whole-heartedly.

Juliet then said “Fidel has mentioned he’s a bit worried about the Chief maybe wanting to leave… do you know anything about that, Camille?”

She shook her head and said “He hasn’t said anything. I don’t think he would have come back from the UK at all if he had had the intention to leave again, Juliet. I think Fidel is over-interpreting things. We’ve all been a little under the weather, so I totally understand. From what I can see, the Chief has settled in well, and he complains less than ever before. I don’t think that’s because he’s beyond caring, as Fidel said. I really believe that he has adjusted better. In any event, the Commissioner will move heaven and earth to keep him here…”

In her mind she added ‘and I won’t let him leave, either’, but she didn’t let that slip.

Juliet seemed to feel reassured. She said “You see, that’s what I told Fidel, too. But he seems to be determined to worry. You know what he can be like! And Dwayne also was worried, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask you. Seriously, Camille, if the Chief left, Fidel would be crestfallen. He thinks the world of him.”

Camille mentioned the conversation to Richard on the next day. They were sitting on his veranda, relaxing with their drinks – Richard had been grocery shopping on Saturday and had purchased two bottles of mango juice. He couldn’t possibly get freshly squeezed mango juice, but at least she should see that he was trying… He didn’t drink mango juice, so it was really only for her sake that he bought it. He was rewarded with a warm smile when he brought out the juice for her. It was little things like that that showed her that he genuinely cared and tried to please her.

It was funny – people always said that it was hard to love those who had been single for a long time because they’ve got used to being sulf-sufficient and independent, so they were loners and not used to accommodating other people’s needs and wishes – but she found it really easy to love him. Now that he knew that she enjoyed being with him and didn’t make attempts at ‘reforming’ him, he had let down the drawbridge and showed his feelings more openly, and he did everything to make her feel at home at his little bungalow.

She sensed that it wasn’t always easy for him because he was so used to being on his own, but he really, truly made efforts – and she made a point of acknowledging that… not always by telling him, but also by bringing treats that she knew he liked but that she didn’t really care all that much for, by spoiling him with shoulder massages – which he thoroughly enjoyed –, or by biting her tongue when he was on the verge of making her impatient with one of his elaborate, long-winded explanations about something seemingly trivial.

When she told him about the meeting with Juliet and what she had said, he didn’t answer at first, but just looked out on the ocean. Then he turned his gaze towards her and said “Wow. That’s the nicest thing someone has said about me in a while – apart from you, but that’s different, I think.”

Camille could see the familiar half-smile on his face that indicated he was really pleased. He went on “I hope that Fidel will not continue to worry. If they ask you again, you may tell them that you asked me directly and I said that I have no intention to leave. That’s the truth. You don’t have to tell them that I’m staying because I’ve fallen for the most beautiful woman on the island – or, since it’s a small island, maybe ‘in the Caribbean’ is more appropriate - that would definitely fall into the ‘too much information’ category.”

He continued “You know, nobody missed me when I left Croydon, but I honestly didn’t miss them, either. Why would I – they’re a bunch of nasty buggers. Not all of them, but well, you get the point. I didn’t want to be here, but I didn’t want to be in Croydon, either, so I guess it all worked out fine for me, all things considered. I was seriously miffed when the Commissioner told me I could re-apply for my old job on such short notice, and when it didn’t work out… I was livid for a moment. But then it all was for the best in the end, wasn’t it. I remember how we all stood on Fidel’s veranda and Rosie sicked up on my suit – that was quite a special moment. Not because she got sick, mind you. It was nice to have this little bundle in my arms – I was scared to drop her… small children kind of intimidate me – but the main thing was that you all gave me the feeling I was part – er - of a group of friends. And I was more at peace with myself after that.”

Camille remembered how she had sat with him on the beach – on a chair because he wouldn’t sit in the sand. That had been ridiculous, but they had had fun that evening. She had accused him of being ‘so English’, and he had retorted she should stop being ‘so French’. And they had been poking fun at each other – as friends did. That had been a turning point in their relationship.

She told him about her decluttering project, and he listened intently. “Seems like you’re shedding dead skin, huh?” he remarked. “Yes, that’s exactly what it’s been feeling like,” she confirmed. “I don’t know, but somehow purging my closets seemed like a good idea. I have no idea why I have piled up so much stuff since I moved in with my mother again. I never had that much before. By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you, Richard – do you ever miss favourite items from home? Like… say, a special teapot, or a letter opener, or something like that?”

He looked a little surprised, and she explained “I’ve been wondering… I mean, you were transplanted to Saint Marie without time to prepare, so I figured you might have had to leave beloved little everyday things behind …”

He pondered her question and then said “I missed Lucy – the precision optical instrument… but my mother sent that after a while, as you know, and there were a few books and all that. But everyday stuff like dishes or pots or other utensils – no, not really. I had the most important things with me, anyway… things like my notebook, my favourite pencil, my penknife, and other personal stuff that I carry around out of habit and that I use constantly. During the first week here, while my luggage was ‘out there’, I didn’t have my penknife as it was packed away in the suitcase, and that drove me batty because I’m so used to having it with me all the time, but once I had it again, I was okay. I missed other things, but those weren’t ‘things’, like items, you know. More stuff like… feeling cool, rainy days – as in ‘rainy London days’, coming home to my flat and knowing I’d have an evening with a favourite TV show… that sort of thing. I wish I could say I missed my friends, but I didn’t really have any – so there wasn’t anything to miss in that respect. Interesting enough, I missed you and the team when I was in London a while ago – an entirely new experience!”

He smiled and reached out for her hand. “Next time I’ll come with you, then you won’t have to miss me,” she teased. He nodded. “That sounds like a plan… You’ll just have to wrap yourself into tons and tons of clothes – but you know what it’s like, Paris isn’t warm year round, either.”

They chatted on for a while, then later went inside to cook dinner and cuddle a little. “You know, you left your dress here…” Richard said, looking up to her – she was sitting on the bed, leaning on the headboard, his head was resting on a cushion in her lap, and she was caressing his forehead and tousling his hair.

“Oh, did I?” she responded. “I wasn’t aware of that… I put on the extra outfit as it was in the bathroom already, and I just forgot about the dress. Sorry, I didn’t want to – hmmm – invade your space like that.” She smiled. He protested, and she went on to tease him by saying “I mean, it must be a bit of a nightmare for you to have someone messing with the frugality and tidiness of your monastic cell…”

He caught her hand, and they engaged in a playful tussle for a few minutes. She ended up flat on her back, with her head at the foot of the bed, trying to outfight him in jest. When he finally was on top of her – only because she had let him win, of course –, pinning down her wrists to the bed, she smiled at him beguilingly and asked with a mocking undertone “And what now, Inspector? You’ve wrestled me down, what must I do for getting released again?”

He bent down to kiss her and whispered “You’ll find out soon enough. But you know what, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again – you’re a little witch!”


	22. Shiftings

They followed the exact same pattern for almost two months – they worked together during the week, every once in a while they spent an evening at La Kaz, Camille visited Richard after her weekly gym class, and they spent time together on Saturday or Sunday. Every other week on Friday evenings, they went out to have dinner at ‘La Mouette’. The owners always gave them the same table, they had their meal together, talked and laughed, and left again quietly to spend the night at Richard’s place.

If the owners had any suspicions about the nature of their relationship, they kept them to themselves – they weren’t the gossiping kind, anyway, but they also knew that not only would they lose Camille and Richard as customers, they’d also risk getting a bad reputation if Camille felt provoked to drop hints over the island that ‘La Mouette’ was a snake hole whose owners spread idle tittle-tattle about their customers. It was a small island, and their business could suffer, so they were wise enough to keep quiet.

Richard and Camille went to great lengths to remain very discreet and didn’t even go as far as holding hands at ‘La Mouette’, and at La Kaz, they never let it show that there was more between them than a friendly relationship between co-workers who liked each other. Camille still teased Richard, and he still ranted every once in a while – and they maintained the perfect picture of the bickering co-workers who enjoyed winding up one another. Nobody noticed that there was more warmth in their glances, and nobody got suspicious about Richard eating at La Kaz a little more often. They got used to playing their respective roles, although it was sometimes a little tricky. It was easier at work because they could just fall back into old roles and behaviour patterns there.

They had a few severe cases – two murders – as well as the usual petty crime, shoplifters, bootleggers, people driving under the influence of alcohol or other ‘substances’, teenagers shooting street lamps with air guns… it was the usual madness. But they all were glad that things had picked up again a little – the past few weeks had been a little too quiet.

Of course, that had given them the possibility to have the station renovated, and they appreciated that, but they all agreed that it was more fun to be on a case than having to revise old files, writing database manuals or shuffling paper from one pile to the next.

The murder cases had turned out to a bit tricky, and they both had been tense and a little snappy. Their evenings together had been a lot less romantic as they had looked at the cases together from all angles, discussed witness statements and talked about suspects and their possible motives. It had sometimes been hard for them to relax and get away from the job-related discussions.

It had been a huge relief for Richard that he hadn’t had to explain to Camille how hard he found it to switch off in those situations – she had felt instinctively that he’d needed time to think and play out all sorts of scenarios in his head, and she had given him the necessary space. Just sometimes, when he had got stuck with something and things just didn’t move in any direction, she had reminded him that there was more to life than work, and they had switched to talking about something entirely different for a while, just for distraction. That had turned out to be helpful, much to Richard’s surprise, and he had been grateful for her efforts. During their date nights on Friday evenings, they had managed to avoid talking about work altogether. Those had been the only occasions when they had deliberately pushed all work-related things aside.

It had been obvious that Richard had needed to spend more time alone during the murder investigations, so Camille had not stayed overnight when she had come to visit him after her gym classes. They had missed spending time together, but had realised that it was better to handle it this way.

Overall, Richard and Camille slipped into their roles of Inspector and Detective Sergeant effortlessly during work, and neither Dwayne nor Fidel suspected that there was more than just a good, cooperative work relationship between their boss and their DS. They noticed that the Chief and Camille generally were more at ease around each other, but they didn’t put too much emphasis on that. They had noticed the atmosphere had relaxed after the storm, so they just figured that – like themselves – they had been under the weather, and whatever it had been that had made them somewhat maggoty had dissolved. Richard’s and Camille’s relationship always had been somewhat changeable and hard to define – at times, they had been so in sync with one another during investigations that their co-workers had almost found it spooky how one of them seemed to express the thoughts of the other, and at other times, they had been arguing and fighting over the least little detail. Obviously, they were in a ‘good’ phase at the moment.

Their worry that the Chief might get transferred back to the UK dissipated as nothing happened, and they finally relaxed again.

The Commissioner dropped by a couple of times – once he took Camille to one side and asked her if she was happy with her work these days – he referred to her mentioning a while ago that something had to change – and for a moment, she just looked at him, wide-eyed… she had almost forgotten that she had had itchy feet not so long ago.

She regained her composure quickly, though, and responded that, yes, she loved her job, and everything was fine. She added that now that the hurricane season was not in full swing any more and would end soon, she was feeling less tense, and Selwyn Patterson just accepted that. He noticed, however, that she shot a brief nervous glance in Richard’s direction, and smiled inwardly.

When he came at another occasion, he ambushed Richard on the way to the station. Camille, Dwayne or Fidel were nowhere to be seen, and the Commissioner asked casually “So, Inspector, have you found out what it was that bugged Sergeant Bordey to the extent that she wanted to leave?”

Richard squirmed a little and then said “It seems that she had – er – itchy feet and wasn’t quite – um – happy with how a few things were going in her life. She has apparently sorted them out in the meantime. In any event… She has assured me that she’s – ah – quite happy with her work, particularly now that things have picked up again a little. It’s always a little taxing, sir, when there’s not much to do. You know that Sergeant Bordey is a very active type and doesn’t enjoy sitting around and twiddling thumbs. She certainly knows how to keep herself busy, but it’s always more fulfilling to work on a case than do – er – filing work and that sort of thing. It is part of the job, and Sergeant Bordey certainly does her share of that, but we both know that having to deal with paper work isn’t why any of us has joined the force in the first place.”

Selwyn Patterson nodded gravely. He enjoyed this little game… it was interesting to see how both Camille and Richard acted as if nothing had happened between them. He had been present during the denouéments after the murder cases, and there hadn’t been any obvious signs that these two had a more intimate relationship, but for the attentive observer, there had been a few hints, like secret glances or hardly visible smiles when they had thought nobody was watching.

During a recent visit with Lizelle, Catherine had disclosed that Camille disappeared regularly after her gym class – but then again, she had done that several times before the storm as well, so she couldn’t really pinpoint when this had turned into a habit, and she sometimes went out on Fridays, usually also on one of the weekend days – and she never said where precisely she was going. The little information that she volunteered was so vague that Catherine didn’t know what to make of it – the beach on weekends seemed credible – Camille had always done that, so again, it wasn’t anything remarkable.

Catherine had a hunch, but she didn’t say anything – she just couldn’t put a finger on what was going on, everything was too diffuse. The Commissioner didn’t say anything, either, and since he had asked his wife not to mention how they had seen Camille driving to Richard’s beach one evening, Lizelle had to remain quiet as well. She felt a bit sorry for her friend, but by the same token, she remembered only too well how she had suffered when her parents had interfered and tried to meddle with her life… She felt that Camille was old enough to find her own way, and giving Catherine a hint wouldn’t do anybody a favour.

Catherine had mixed feelings about her daughter possibly being involved with Richard – she had no idea how far their relationship had developed, but they generally seemed to get on much better lately, so she suspected they had at least talked about their situation and come to some sort of truce, if not more than that. They didn’t flirt, though, so it was hard to say if there was more to this all than just friendship.

She had noticed over the past weeks that Richard had become a bit more open when he visited La Kaz, and he had made an effort to be more polite as well. He had been downright rude very often during his first year on Saint Marie, but he had improved during his second year, and ever since Camille and the boys had welcomed him back from the UK a while ago, it had become better and better.

She had had a phase of disliking him sincerely when she had thought he could be responsible for Camille’s deprecating attitude towards the blind dates that she had arranged for her daughter, but since Camille had thrown her tantrum and they had finally talked about it, Catherine had tried to be more unbiased about him, and that had improved the situation considerably. Richard would never be a gregarious man, but – albeit reluctantly - Catherine was beginning to accept this. He had his good sides as well, and well, if he was what Camille wanted, then so be it… After her daughter had made a song and a dance about wanting to leave the island to go back to France, Catherine hadn’t dared to foist her opinions on Camille any more. And really, if she had to choose between the two scenarios of Camille leaving and Camille staying, but being with Richard, she definitely preferred the latter. She felt that she didn’t want to lose her daughter, and given the mood Camille had been in before the storm had hit, Catherine knew that she would have left – if only just to prove her point.

Well, considering Richard’s general awkwardness and his dislike of changes, though, Catherine didn’t believe that he and Camille had become ‘serious’ yet – and maybe that would never happen. They were friends now, anybody could see that, but she didn’t think it was likely they had moved beyond that.

Lizelle had also noticed that Catherine had other things on her mind these days. She had mentioned that she was worried about Alex – the girl who helped out at La Kaz regularly, together with her boyfriend Billy. Apparently, the girl had not showed up a couple of times lately and claimed she hadn’t been feeling too well, and Catherine had urged her to see a doctor, but Alex had refused to go. She had blamed her poor condition on the humidity and the heat, but since she had never had any issues with either of these before, Catherine was worried about her and wondered if she had perhaps caught some virus or was developing some kind of allergy. She had also tried to convince Billy to get the water pipes at their place checked – you never knew, there might be bacteria in the water that made Alex unwell. But Billy said that Alex always boiled their water for several minutes before using it for washing vegetables or fruit, and they drank bottled water which they also used for brushing their teeth, so the water couldn’t really be the culprit.

Another thing was that for a while now there had been a new ‘permanent guest’ at La Kaz. Paul – the man whom Catherine had tried to match up with Camille – had his older cousin staying with him for an extended period of time… Mark had just retired, he had run a small catering service in the South of England, but had recently sold his business and wasn’t sure what to do next. He was staying with Paul for a while – and ever since Paul had taken him to La Kaz for a drink, he had come faithfully every evening. He was quiet, but very friendly and good with people. Catherine and he had got into talking over food. She liked him very much, and so did the other guests. So, that was another factor of distraction…

Her daughter watched Catherine and Mark getting more and more friendly, and she was genuinely pleased for her. He was a nice chap, and her mother deserved the attention and admiration. And – it kept her busy. She hadn’t been half as curious about her daughter’s life recently.

In a way, it was ironic that Catherine had become interested in an Englishman. Mark was not like Richard, obviously nobody was like Richard… - but he had a few typically English habits that Catherine had always frowned upon when she had noticed them in Richard. But it didn’t seem to bother her at all when Mark wanted tea, and his love for shortbread fingers didn’t disturb her one bit while she had always made sarcastic remarks about British pastries and their inferior quality when Richard had swooned about shortbread.

*************

Camille had not felt so peaceful in a long time. She didn’t feel driven any more. She had time for herself, went to her gym class, occasionally got together with Juliet or other girlfriends, went dancing every once in a while, spent evenings at home or at La Kaz - and she and Richard got together regularly. Richard was good company, and they enjoyed spending time together. He got cranky from time to time, but so did she. They had had a few rows, but although they had shouted at one another, they had always reconciled quickly.

When it had happened for the first time, Camille had marched out of the shack in a huff and sat down on the veranda steps to sulk, and Richard had stayed inside, clanging and clinking with the dishes in the sink that he was just taking care of. Both of them were fuming, replaying their recent shouting match in their heads and feeling annoyed and angry.

However, Camille had known instinctively that if she left at this point, there’d be a rift between them, and she didn’t want that. Also, it had seemed childish to run away and act like a sorehead. So, she had stayed – although she wasn’t sure at all whose turn it was to apologise. No, she wasn’t mulish. Or was she?

Just when Richard – after having fought an inner battle for a while, arguing with himself and trying to find out if it was her or him who was being stubborn, - had dried his hands to go out and apologise to Camille, she had stood in the doorframe and looked at him, asking for forgiveness with her eyes. It had taken him three big steps to come to her and take her in his arms, and they had hugged tightly. He had whispered “Sorry, Camille… Please, forgive me… I didn’t mean to… I’m an idiot,” into her hair.

She had giggled and replied with a small, but already much happier voice “I know. So am I! And I’m sorry, too… I know, I over-reacted, and you didn’t mean it…”

He had pulled away a little and said haltingly “Camille… you know that I find it – er – hard to talk about… oh well! You just know which buttons to push to make me hit the roof… But really… you are everything to me, and – um... I don’t know if that’s love, but I have never felt this way before!”

Camille had smiled with tears in her eyes and said “You have quite an unusual way to declare your feelings, Richard Poole… but as it is, I know exactly what you mean because I feel the same way. And as far as I’m concerned… I can safely say that I do love you!”

They had looked at one another, and they both had realised that they had finally expressed with words what they had been feeling for a while. No matter how much his actions had showed his feelings - Richard had always been too afraid to say it, and Camille hadn’t wanted to put pressure on him although she had been longing to hear it from his lips. She had known that he’d say it when the time was right for him. So, she hadn’t said it first but had waited for him to come around.

When it finally had happened, they both had been a little startled for a moment, but the kiss that had followed had sealed it, and after that, they had said it again and again. Their lovemaking that night had been even more meaningful – as if their words had given it all a new dimension.

Of course, Richard was still childish, pedantic and annoying sometimes, and Camille was still temperamental, capricious and impatient from time to time. They kept squabbling and teasing each other, particularly at work, and they had heated arguments every once in a while. But they never parted in anger, and they had a deep understanding for one another that was based on their communication and good rapport.

Richard was in a bit of a dilemma about what to do now. While he was ready to establish their relationship a bit more and wanted to do the ‘right thing’, he didn’t want to get engaged at this point. He knew that Camille wasn’t particularly keen on the whole diamond ring scenario – they had talked about that in a general context once when she had said that no matter how much she liked pretty jewelry, she found it ridiculous that women got a ring to show that they were ‘off the market’, and men walked around without any sign like that. She mentioned that it made the women appear like a trophy that the men had hunted down and chained to them with a ring. Richard had never seen it that way, but he understood her point of view when she explained it.

He knew that in some countries it was a tradition that both partners exchanged rings for their engagement. That sounded fair enough – both showed their commitment openly. All in all, however, he felt that it was too early to come up with a sign like that, and he was looking for an alternative that was a little less obvious, but still meant something to both of them.

As far as he was concerned, marriage could wait a little – he wanted to ask her eventually, but not right now. And if they got rings, everybody would ask about their plans and press them for a date, and the whole ‘and don’t forget about the biological clock’ thing would flare up again – no, he didn’t want that. Camille seemed happy the way things were. She sometimes said she’d love to live together with him (and he felt the same way) - but that didn’t necessarily mean getting married.

Once they had talked about traditions in different countries, and she had said that one of the things that sometimes disturbed her on Saint Marie was that while it seemed so relaxed, it was still a more conservative place than many other islands – not to mention Europe, where people lived together without a marriage certificate for years and years, and nobody thought any less of them because of that, or even said they weren’t fully committed to each other.

They had come to that topic when she told him that Luc, the man who had got the job that she had applied for, had e-mailed her a wedding picture – he and his partner had finally got married ‘after what seemed like eons’, as she said. They had just felt it was the right moment. Camille said that they had already been a couple when she still lived in France, they had lived together openly, and there had never been any issue with that.

“I think that’s great,” she said. “I mean, marriage is good and well, and if you feel it’s what you want to do, then that’s wonderful. But a marriage certificate isn’t a prerequisite for happiness or a guarantee for commitment. I don’t think Luc and Josiane were _living in sin_ , or whatever you might want to call it. Dramatic expression, anyway! They did what they thought was right for them. I know that Luc’s mother had pestered him for a while to get married, but he and Josiane just weren’t ready – so then, where’s the point?”

That was food for thought. Richard had always thought that conventions and traditions were a good thing for those who liked them, and if you wanted to follow them, then fine – but there was no reason to beat up anyone if they’d rather take the less conventional path. Each to their own. Since he hadn’t met anybody that he had remotely wanted to stay together with, the whole topic had not been important to him, and he had never thought about what to do if he fell in love (and that had always been a big ‘if’ in his life) and wanted to give the woman in question a token, yet not quite an ‘official’ one like a ring.

During a visit on Guadeloupe, though, when he had to go to clarify a few things about a report he had received from the lab there, he had an idea. He hoped Camille would like it – well, if not, he’d have to live with it, but he had a feeling (a notion that he didn’t use… but it was precisely that… a feeling!) that she might actually find it rather original.

**************

Several days after he had had this inspiration, Dwayne and Fidel came back from their market patrol around noon and shared a few tidbits of gossip they had heard at the bakery shop. Richard was just taking a bite of his pretzel – he had one regularly once or twice a week now, and everybody had got used to it in the meantime – when Fidel mentioned – in between two bites of a sandwich – that they had seen Mrs Sanderson on the market.

“I asked her how her father-in-law is doing now, and it seems he’s a little better,” Fidel said. “Oh, good,” said Camille, “I’ve been thinking about them lately and wondered how the whole scenario might have developed. Does he still live with her and her husband?”

Fidel shook his head. “Not really, at least not for the moment. He’s currently in a nursing home. They consider returning to Jamaica, though. It’s not decided yet, as Mrs Sanderson said, and her husband has to sort out a few more details before they can look at all the pros and cons and then make a final decision. But the doctors said very clearly that his condition will never get any better although he will have good moments in between – you know how dementia is the illness of no return… So they suggested that – if they could make it happen - it might be a good idea to return to his home island where he’s familiar with the people, the traditions and everything. Seems he’s doing fairly well in the nursing home for the moment, and they’ll let him stay there until they have made a decision, one way or another. She mentioned that they have a French speaking cleaner, and it scared the old man out of his wits when she came to the house because he didn’t understand her and felt threatened by that.”

“Oh dear!” Richard frowned. “I know from experience that the French can be intimidating, but that’s a whole different caliber of fear that old Mr Sanderson has to endure there.” Camille shot him an indignant glance, but refrained from making a sardonic reply. Sometimes he could be awfully flippant and inconsiderate. Then, however, she saw the concern in his eyes – and realised that he had been trying to hide his compassion behind a casual remark.

That evening, they sat together on his veranda – Camille had driven him home after a short visit at La Kaz, and they wanted to round off the evening by spending some quiet time together. Camille mentioned that Mark had become a male version of the “maid of all work” in the bar. “And you know, it’s really practical – with his catering background, he knows a lot about food suppliers and contracts and stuff. And he can cook. Maman gave me leftovers of a meal he had cooked for her, and it was delicious. I’m so glad they met… she hasn’t given anybody a chance since that disastrous Aidan Miles experience, and it’s nice to see her happy again. Plus she’s not so much into what I’m doing with my life at the moment!” She laughed when she said that.

Richard had also observed how Catherine and Mark had become closer, and now, he asked in jest “So, have you taken a stand by your door yet, with the rolling pin in your hand?”

Camille stared at him “You mean, they could… Yes, of course! That’s why she asked me the other day if I have plans to go out on Friday again! Now I know! I thought it was about the bar, but she had already made arrangements that Alex and Billy are coming and taking over. Oh, I hope they won’t go out and come to ‘La Mouette’ – just imagine the embarrassment!”

Richard didn’t want to imagine that scenario. But it made him realise that something had to happen. They couldn’t go on with this hide-and-seek game. It had worked for a while, but maybe it was time to put the cards on the table, at least as far as Catherine was concerned. But he also knew he’d have to come up with something ‘tangible’. Catherine wasn’t so excited about him, anyway, and if she got the feeling that he wasn’t serious about the relationship with Camille, she wouldn’t refrain from going on and on about it and letting her daughter pay the price.

Camille was still talking. “No, I don’t think they’d come there. Maman has mentioned the other day that she hasn’t been to ‘La Tortue de Mer’ in a while – and that’s on the other side of the island. She has always preferred that to ‘La Mouette’. So we don’t have to worry… What’s the matter, Richard – are you listening at all?”

“Yes, yes – you said we don’t have to worry,” he hastened to say. “Listen, Camille… I’ll have to go to Guadeloupe once again tomorrow, would you like me to bring anything from there?”

“Oh, how sweet of you! No, I don’t think I want anything from there at the moment. Maybe you could pick up a flyer about the new art museum at the harbour, but other than that, I’m all good.”

Then, checking the time on her phone, she got up and said apologetically “I’m afraid I must go now. I’ve been here longer than planned already, and although I doubt anybody will notice… well, you know…” She leant over to kiss him – that took a little longer than anticipated as he pulled her on his lap and drew out the goodbye ceremony a little, but eventually, she sighed, scrambled off his lap and waved him _‘au revoir’_.

They had Friday night to look forward to…


	23. Commitments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're hitting the home stretch, so to speak. There are a few more chapters after this, and I'll try to update more regularly, so you won't be left on tenterhooks :-) Hope you'll enjoy this chapter, and as always, feel free to comment!

Richard’s visit on Guadeloupe was successful, and now he just had to figure out how to proceed from here. So, he went through a number of possible scenarios in his head. He realised very quickly that none of them was realistic. And he had learnt that trying to follow a plan with Camille didn’t work most of the time – she had spontaneous ideas or made unexpected remarks that threw him off the rail, and then he was left speechless, and all his wonderful plans fell apart. For someone who was used to being methodical, having a plan and following routines, this was not easy.

Basically, he’d have to rely on trusting his instincts regarding when the right moment was there, how Camille’s current disposition was, and all these vague things… Going with the flow had never been his strong side. To a certain extent, he had learnt to live with uncertainties, and he had to admit that it had added some spice to his life, but he just wasn’t sure about how this particular situation would pan out. This all made him nervous. Oh well…

As he stood in front of the mirror on Friday evening, he was rather pleased with his reflection. Sure, he was no Adonis, but he didn’t have to hide under a rock, either. He was showered, shaved and carefully dressed, as he always was for their dates – although he never wore a tie, following Camille’s request to be less formal during their evenings out, he looked very correct and dapper. He felt that Camille made an effort for him, so it was only fair that he made one for her as well.

When Camille picked him up – in a lovely vanilla coloured dress with dark green trimmings – she noticed that he seemed a little more fidgety than usual, but well, she’d find out what it was all about later on, so she decided to ignore his nervousness for now, and they went to Saint Antoine for their usual dinner date. It was a nice evening, they had excellent food, the owner came to their table and chatted a little with them – everything went fine, and they had a lovely time.

On the way home, Richard wasn’t quite as flustered any more – the wine had relaxed him a little, and so he was elated and looked forward to the remainder of the evening. He decided not to dwell too much on the part that he considered ‘difficult’ - and focused more on what he hoped would follow.

Camille noticed he was ‘excited’ about something and asked “What is it, Richard? You’ve been in a bit of a weird mood all evening… will you tell me what’s the matter, or will I have to make guesses?”

He made no reply for a moment, then he said “I have something on my mind, but I don’t want to talk about it until later. Let’s go home, and you’ll find out.” Camille just shook her head at his mysterious words, but didn’t probe deeper at this point.

It started to drizzle when they left the main road and took the gravel road to his shack. By the time they had reached the beach, the drizzle had changed into steady rain, and they both sighed with frustration. Richard leant over to the backseat, reached for the umbrella and said “Come on, Camille – if we don’t get off now, we’ll be stuck here for a while, and I had different plans for tonight…”

Camille couldn’t help but smile – she had an idea of what one part of his plans could be. So, she grabbed her tote bag, and when Richard opened her door from the outside, she slipped under the umbrella that he held up, took his arm and snuggled up to him – and off they went to the little bungalow.

The electricity hadn’t gone off, but Richard took out a candle, anyway, set it on the table on the veranda and lit it. He placed the two chairs next to each other, and they sat in the semi-darkness, holding hands and listening to the rain. Camille surreptitiously watched him – she could see his profile – and squeezed his hand lightly to get his attention.

She noticed that his excitement seemed gone again and wanted to know what was on his mind. He was actually a little discouraged now – the rain hadn’t been part of any of his plans or scenarios! But he realised that there was no way he could change that, so he turned to her and said “You know what, this isn’t going the way I had hoped – but somehow that’s old news… things rarely ever work out the way you imagine them… so…”

“What is it, Richard?” Camille was getting worried now. This was all very strange!

“I had all sorts of ideas about how I wanted the evening to turn out… but this…” - he gestured to the rain falling down in front of them - “really isn’t very helpful! I suppose I’ll have to come up with something else, so…”

He got up, reached out for her other hand and pulled her towards him. His kiss was gentle, and Camille calmed down a little – as long as he kissed her, she needn’t worry. He blew out the candle, and they went inside together.

He made her sit down at the table, switched on a small lamp, and then he went to the chest of drawers between the veranda doors. She heard him rummaging around, and when he came back, she saw that he was carrying a flat, square box. She knew it wouldn’t be jewelry – the box was flat, and so it _could_ be a necklace, but it was sturdy and looked… masculine, for lack of a better word. He set it down on the table. It was dark green – almost the same colour like the trimmings on her dress -, and there was a golden embossing on the lid – a logo she wasn’t familiar with.

He sat down opposite to her, took her hand and said “I have a suggestion to make, and I wanted to – er – back it up by giving you something.” Camille was puzzled. He wouldn’t propose to her, would he? She loved him dearly, but she felt it was too early for a commitment like that, and she had thought he had felt the same way. Not that she didn’t want to be with him, but they both needed more time… She looked at the box, then she looked at Richard, inquiringly. She was getting a bit nervous now, too… What would the mysterious suggestion be? What was inside this box?

Richard met her gaze - anxiously. So far, she hadn’t run away. Would she be disappointed?

He took a deep breath and said “Camille, you know that I love you. I have been thinking about – er – the future, and I know that I want to – well, I’d – oh, for heaven’s sake! I want us to stay together, and I feel that – er… I think that you… um… we have talked about this before, but I think that…- in short, Camille, could you imagine… er… would you like to – um – live with me?”

He looked at her pleadingly, and she nodded slightly, encouragement in her eyes, indicating that she was listening, but not interrupting him – she knew that would take away all the courage he had managed to pluck up.

So, he went on “I feel that it’s– um… not the time yet to get officially engaged, and I figure you might feel the same way… I don’t want the rumour mill to start churning, and I don’t want people to ask questions, and I don’t want your mother to come down on you – er – us… and ask about grandchildren and all that. I just want a promise between you and me, and so – er – I got something… specifically made for us…”

He opened the box, and Camille was speechless. On a bed of dark green velvet, she saw two – well, what was it? Whatever it was, it looked elegant and stylish, but she had no idea what it was. The two items looked identical at first glance. There was a dark brown, smooth leather strap; on one side, about two centimetres away from the end, something like an engraved badge that appeared to be stainless steel was attached to it, and the other side was attached to a sturdy, yet elegant ring…

She looked at Richard again, and he explained “These are individually made key holders. For – er – for the keys to our future home, once we find a place that we like. Look, I had the badges personalised for us, and… this is yours. It’s the more - um - feminine version.”

She now saw that they weren’t identical, the one he pointed to was a little more delicate and dainty. He took it out and handed it over to her. He wished she’d say something. Anything. He knew he couldn’t return the key holders, so he just hoped he hadn’t messed up. He wasn’t good at giving presents, and this was important, so…

Camille was totally stunned. Never ever in her entire life had she owned such an elegant and original key holder – and until now she hadn’t even known that she wanted one. She had always had cheap, practical keyrings, and although she had sometimes thought that something nicer, smarter, more original would be fun, she had never made an effort to have a look at what was available. She knew this had been expensive, and it had been made exclusively for her – which was exciting enough in itself.

But not only that… The design was amazing. It looked simple, yet refined. Just the way she liked it… Her thumb went over the smooth, shiny leather. Exquisite quality… The badge was indeed made of polished stainless steel, and it was engraved on both sides. The upper side showed a stylized Frog Prince – complete with a little crown on his head (slightly lopsided!)… and on the other side, hidden by the leather strap so you had to turn it to see what was engraved there, she saw the letters R and C, intricately and artistically interwoven with one another.

Richard was a little alarmed by her silence, but then she looked up, straight into his eyes - her eyes were brimming with tears of joy, and she was smiling happily. Before he knew what was happening, she had jumped up from her chair and come around the table. The next thing he realised was that she was sitting on his lap, kissing him senseless. His chair wiggled and groaned in protest, but her actions stifled all his doubts – it seemed he had indeed found the right gift for her.

When she had calmed down a bit, she rested her head on his shoulder and whispered “Never ever in my entire life has anybody given me something amazing like that. And I love, love, love the idea behind it. How thoughtful of you! Thank you so much, Richard, and the answer certainly is yes… I’d love to live together with you, more than anything else, and I’m happy you asked!” They kissed again, and when they eventually broke for air, she laughed softly and said “And I was afraid you wanted to tell me that you didn’t want to go on like that…”

“Well, technically, that’s what I did…” he said, being his own pedantic self for a moment. “I’m tired of sneaking around, and I want us to have an everyday life together. I felt it was time for… for some kind of commitment. But I didn’t want to get a ring – we have talked about all that extensively, and I felt that you might appreciate something a little different, anyway. We can – er - always get rings later, when the time is right…”

She smiled and said tenderly “That sounds like a brilliant idea, Richard…” He felt very smug – and forgotten were the doubts he had had for a little while.

They sat in companionable silence for quite some time, she was admiring the keyholder in her hand, and he was holding her tight, thanking inspiration that he had actually managed to get something for her that she genuinely liked. Eventually, she stirred and asked curiously “What’s on your badge? You don’t have a Frog Prince, do you?”

“No, mine is different. It’s similar on the back, only that the order of the letters is exchanged – on mine, the C comes first. And the front – er – is definitely different.” He hesitated for a moment and then said “I hope you won’t think it’s – er – inappropriate…” He reached out for the box, retrieved his keyholder and showed it to her. She had a look and laughed out loud when she saw the delicately engraved stylized little witch on the badge, complete with headscarf, wild hair and broomstick.

He asked anxiously “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all… it actually seems quite – er – apposite… Where did you get the designs? Did you draw that yourself?”

“I wish I could say ‘yes’, but that wouldn’t be the truth. I outlined what I wanted to have, and the shop owner got me a few samples, drawn by his son, so they are copyrighted, and you only get them in this particular shop. They adapted the drafts to my wishes, but really, I didn’t ask for many alterations – the originals already were very much what I had had in mind. They’re a bit – er – out off the common run – you may have noticed that the Frog Prince looks a little different from what you usually see on T-shirts and stuff, and the witch is unique, too. I’m glad that you like it… I was a little afraid you’d think I had gone bonkers…”

She protested and said teasingly “I’ve sometimes doubted your sanity, but not recently, you know, and this is – I’m totally dumbfounded. I never expected anything like that, and well… I’m so glad you asked, really. And this gift is so thoughtful – you couldn’t have picked anything better for the occasion!” Tenderly, she touched his cheek.

He shifted a little on his chair, and Camille felt that they might both prefer a change of venue before too long – it was getting a little uncomfortable sitting like this. She sighed as she felt his hand stroking her side, his fingers fumbling with the buttons on the bodice of her dress, and his lips placing butterfly kisses on her neck. Then all of a sudden, his right arm was under her legs, and much to her surprise, he got up and carried her to the bed. They crashed there, and he said softly “Well, at least this part of the evening is going exactly the way I had hoped!” She giggled, kicked off her shoes and pulled him towards her.

Later, in the darkness, Camille said musingly “Now we only have to find a place that we both like. Do you consider buying, or would you prefer to rent?”

He took his time to reply, but finally, he said thoughtfully “I don’t really care, do you? I mean, it depends on what’s available, and on prices. If we rent, we have the option of getting something built later on, based on our wishes. And we’d be less tied to Saint Marie. At the moment, we both want to be here, but what if that changes? I mean, you never know. It’s not very likely that either of us gets transferred, but maybe we want to start over at another place, or – oh well, I don’t know. Principally, I’m open to both options. And you?”

She thought about it for a moment and then said “I think it doesn’t bother me, either way. I’m just a little worried because Maman counts on the rent that I pay at the moment. But having said that, she made me a special price, and if she rents the place to tourists or gets new long-term tenants, she’ll earn more. I’ll have to discuss that with her some time. Not now, though – I think I’ll have to come up with a more concrete plan before spilling the beans…”

She snuggled up to him, pulled up the sheets a little and said again “I’m so glad you asked. And the keyholders are amazing. Do you want me to use mine immediately, or shall we wait until we have a place?”

“Wait a little… I think we should explore and see what’s on the market, and once we have seen a few houses, we might want to make a decision, and then we will use the keyholders for the keys to our new place. Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah, I think that’s fine… “ She chuckled. “It will be interesting to see Maman’s face when I tell her…”

Then, as an afterthought “You won’t make me tell her without you, will you? I think it would be fair if you – er – were by my side.”

“Pfft. You’re just afraid she’ll pull out that bloody rolling pin and hit you – you know that won’t happen if I’m there to take the blame! She’ll hit me instead!”

She punched him playfully and pretended to be offended. He just laughed softly, pulled her closer and began to kiss her – he knew that she wouldn’t resist for too long if he continued… He had learnt that much by now.

****************

On the next day, Camille noticed that her mother was in an unusually good mood. She helped her in the bar, and when Mark came to sit at his favourite table, Catherine sported a loving smile and bent down to kiss him on the cheek. That didn’t go unnoticed, but nobody made a comment. Camille pretended she hadn’t seen it and turned away with a grin. She was pleased for her mother – and relieved. If Catherine was happy, she’d be much more lenient about the prospect of her daughter moving out and ‘shacking up’ with a man…

Camille knew very well that her mother wouldn’t be pleased with that idea, but well, she’d get over it. And so would everybody else… it was just a matter of time. She and Richard knew that the Commissioner wouldn’t start a ruckus as long as their work had the same quality and standard, and now that they had been together for a few months already, solved two murder cases and a number of minor crime cases, worked together on a series of projects and dealt with the usual everyday stuff at the station without quality loss, they knew they could do it. There was no reason to criticise them for having a relationship – everything went smoothly, and the fact that they were ‘together’ had had no negative influence on their work.

So, considering that they had their boss’s back-up – at least unofficially – they felt they could slowly be a bit more open about things. Catherine would be the next to know, and then others would follow… Camille hoped they’d find a nice house soon – they both agreed that the shack was out of the question, and her flat wasn’t an option, either.

As Camille was still thinking about this all, she was approached by Billy who had an alarmed look on his face. “Camille, Alex isn’t feeling well again… I don’t know what to do any more, could you please have a look?” Camille turned around and looked in the direction that Billy indicated. Alex was sitting at a corner table, looking miserable – she was as white as a ghost, her skin was sallow, and she had bags under her eyes. A glass of water was standing in front of her, untouched.

Thoughts about food poisoning came to Camille’s mind, but upon further consideration, that didn’t seem realistic – Alex had been feeling unwell often lately, and Catherine had mentioned that she had fainted once already, so it wasn’t likely that she had a stomach issue, unless it was a sudden bout of an unknown allergy. She wasn’t feverish, so Dengue or Chikungunya weren’t really a possibilty, either. The third – perhaps most likely - possibility was… good grief!

Camille told Billy to stick around and keep his eyes peeled for customers and their wishes, then she went to Alex, bent down and whispered something in her ear. Alex nodded obediently and got up to follow Camille to the pebble beach close to the bar. They sat down on a log of driftwood while Billy was trying to focus on his tasks at La Kaz. He kept shooting desperate glances in the direction of the two women, though.

Ten minutes later, Camille waved and indicated that he should come over and join them, and Billy approached them, anxiety and fear in his eyes. Camille got up, with a smile on her face, and said “No reason to be frightened, Billy. Alex has to tell you something. When you’re done, we can talk about how you might want to go about from here, but for the moment, I’ll leave you alone. I’ll tell my mother, so don’t be afraid… it’s all good, Alex isn’t seriously ill.”

Billy sat down, and Camille left the two youngsters. Good heavens, those two really were kids… they were in their early twenties, globetrotter wannabes, who had stranded on Saint Marie. They lived in a shed on the beach, under circumstances that made Camille shudder, but apparently, they were happy together. They didn’t have a clue about responsibility… well, they would learn soon enough.

Camille set off to look for her mother… it seemed like Catherine was in for a number of surprises over the next weeks…


	24. Decisions

„Oh dear. I can’t believe it, Camille. Are you sure? I mean, is there no doubt about it?”

Camille smiled and said “I don’t think there is, Maman. It’s hard to understand that you haven’t realised it before now – I mean, I haven’t been pregnant before, but you have! How come you didn’t recognise the signs when Alex felt unwell and got sick several times?”

Catherine looked over to the log of wood on the beach where Alex and Billy were still sitting. Billy had put his arm around Alex, and her head was leant on his shoulder. They looked out on the ocean.

“I really don’t know. I never had symptoms like that when I was pregnant. I didn’t suffer from morning sickness and all that – I had other problems. And it just didn’t cross my mind that they wanted a baby. I guess I thought they had at least some sense of responsibility and would be – er – more cautious. I mean, the shed they live in isn’t really the place where you want to raise a child, and they are still so young and full of travel plans… I thought they knew what they were doing…”

“Well, Maman, as I see it, they hadn’t planned this. It was an accident, and Alex says she always has had irregular cycles, so she didn’t think much of it when she was overdue. Only when it happened twice in a row – that made her think, indeed! She didn’t want to see a doctor – she kind of felt that if she ignored it, it wouldn’t be real… Ostrich policy, you know. She finally did a test a few days ago and has been trying to muster up the courage to tell Billy and then you. As far as being young is concerned, she’s a year older than you were when you had me, so… Well, whatever. I think these two have to digest the news, and then we should maybe all sit down together and try to find a solution for their problem.”

Catherine looked at her, aghast. “What do you mean – a solution for their problem? Camille, I can’t believe you’re suggesting…” Camille lifted her hand and said “No, no - I’m not ‘suggesting’ anything drastic, Maman. Alex wants to have the baby, and I think Billy feels the same way – just look at them! The problem is their living conditions. I’m just saying that they can’t continue living in that rotten shack that lacks all basic conveniences, and we will have to see how we can help them. I feel we should let them know that they’ll have our support, as far as possible – that will give them the confidence they need now. Alex told me they both have burnt the bridges with their families – and I imagine they feel a little alone now.”

Her mother nodded and said pensively “You are right, Camille. I’ll go right over to them and tell them we’ll help.” She added “I’m glad you found out, Camille. I was worried about Alex, but she wouldn’t tell me what was going on… Thank you!”

And with that she scurried away to join the two young people on their log of driftwood.

Mark approached Camille and asked anxiously “Anything the matter, Camille? Can I help?” Camille looked at him gratefully and inwardly congratulated her mother on finding a man who used his brain and offered help when it was needed. She laughed and said cheerfully “No worries, Mark, I’m sure everything will be fine – Maman just heard a piece of unexpected news, but it’s nothing sad or depressing. Just unexpected… And yes, you can help. These three over there won’t be of much use for the next – er – twenty minutes, I guess, so it’s upon you and me to look after the customers.”

***************

At around four in the afternoon, Camille’s phone buzzed. She looked at the number and frowned. He knew she was busy – it had to be something important then… Well, at least he wouldn’t come up with news about an unexpected pregnancy – that much was sure.

She accepted the call and heard Richard saying “Hey Camille, do you have an hour and a half for me? Could you come and pick me up at the station?”

“Now? At the station, Richard? What on earth are you doing there?”

“I’ll explain when you’re here. We’re having an appointment… I don’t think it will take long, but an hour or so sounds realistic. And we’ll need to talk a bit afterwards, so – er… oh, just be prepared!”

Camille shook her head in bewilderment, but agreed. Richard wouldn’t ask her to come just out on a whim, so she figured it was indeed something urgent and pressing. She went to look for Catherine and found her behind the bar where she was busy making cocktails for a group of customers, supported by Mark who served the drinks. Alex was nowhere to be seen, and Billy busied himself with preparing small bowls with olives, crisps and peanuts that were usually put on the table together with the drinks.

“Maman, it seems you’re getting by famously without me – would it be a problem if I disappeared for a while? I have – er – something…” Her voice trailed off. She suddenly realised that she had no idea what Richard wanted, and she couldn’t tell her mother that she was going to see him about something she had no clue about at this point. Anything she could have said would have sounded ridiculous.

But Catherine had only heard half of what Camille had said, anyway – the music was rather loud, and some of the customers were singing along, so that didn’t help, either. So, she just nodded and said loudly “No worries, Camille – just dash off. Would be nice if you could come back later, but if not, it won’t be a problem. Mark will help out.” She shot a loving glance to Mark, who smiled back and gave Catherine an adoring look that reminded Camille of puppy eyes. Wow – she had fallen for this man, as it seemed! And it was obviously mutual…

Camille stifled a smile and kissed her mother on the cheek, then she left – she was dying to know what Richard was up to.

She found him sitting on the bench of the station veranda, in blue chinos and a white linen shirt, and as soon as he saw the Defender pulling up, he jumped to his feet, rushed down the steps to the street and got in the car.

He didn’t kiss her (they were still in public, and although there was hardly anybody around, he didn’t want the gossipers to start rumours), but smiled tenderly and squeezed her hand on the gear lever. “Hello love, and thanks for coming so quickly,” he said.

“Well, I would have taken the broom, but the car seemed like a better idea…” she joked. “What’s the matter, Richard, what are you doing here, and where are we going?”

“To begin with your last question – we’re going to the Sandersons. And I’ll fill you in on the other details during the ride.”

She looked at him incredulously when he mentioned the Sandersons, but then just shrugged and stepped on the accelerator.

“When I was showering this morning,” he said, “I remembered that Fidel had mentioned that the Sandersons were considering moving back to Jamaica. In light of what we discussed yesterday evening, I decided to – er – be a little bolder than usual and ask them if that plan was for real or if it was only an idea at this point. I said I was interested in the house… Mrs Sanderson confirmed that they’ll be moving, and she invited me to come and have a look. I mean, I haven’t seen much of the house when I brought them their mail, but what I did see looked good, and you didn’t find it ugly, either, from what you said, so I thought it wouldn’t hurt to have a closer look at it. If we like it, we could surely settle for an agreement with the Sandersons – depending on what they want, I mean. I wouldn’t want to go for it regardless of cost – money _does_ matter! - but if they’re sensible about it, I think it might be worth considering. What – er – what do you think?”

He looked at her, almost as if he was asking her to reassure him that he hadn’t gone too far too quickly. She smiled, and she was touched by how keen he was on turning their dreams into reality. She put her hand on his thigh, stroked it lightly, and said warmly “That’s a brilliant idea, Richard. I can’t imagine why we haven’t thought of it before – it’s close to your current place, so you wouldn’t have to walk much further to work and to shops – it’s about a mile, I reckon, maybe even a bit less, and you can walk that within 20 minutes or so. Of course, it would mean you’d have to leave the house earlier, and you’d be at home later, but it would be manageable for someone like you who walks a lot. I’d find it a bigger adjustment, but I’m sure I could get used to it. Or we could each invest in a scooter, if we find walking too cumbersome in the long run. You don’t need a licence for that, and it would make it easier to get from point A to point B. Or one car and one scooter. Or we’d have the Rover and could go to work together. Depends on how we organise it all, I guess, but it’s all possible.”

“Oh, I’m glad that you see it like that.” He sounded relieved. “I was afraid that you’d think I was – er – rushing things…”

“Hmmm. You know, Richard, you’re not usually the type who’d hurry things, and I take this as a compliment because it means that you want to be together with me! If you had thought of this option and let it pass by, I would have been upset, so don’t worry, you did the right thing.”

He smiled, pleased with himself – and with her reaction.

“And what did you do at the station?” she asked.

“Oh, I couldn’t just walk up to their door and say something like ‘I have heard you want to move, could we see the house?’ That would have been plain rude, so I went to the station to retrieve their contact details. I knew that Fidel had put them into the file and also in the computer database. I couldn’t access that from home, obviously, so I had to walk to the station – that’s all.”

Camille asked “You know that we’ll have to come out about being together once we have seen the Sandersons, don’t you? If things with the house materialise, I mean… Are you okay with that, Richard?”

“I guess I am, yes. I’m a little – er - nervous, but then again, they say that if you’re worried about falling off the bike you’ll never get on, and that’s an analogy that rings true to me,” he said. “You’ve got to turn right here – oh sorry, I forgot – you know the way!”

Camille rolled her eyes, and her exasperated sigh had not gone unnoticed, either. She didn’t make any further comment, though – Richard was grateful for that. He knew he had been silly, and he didn’t want to end up in an argument at this point. Camille could still be rather intimidating sometimes…

When they arrived at the Sandersons’ house, the door opened, and Mrs Sanderson came out. She seemed a little surprised to see Camille – but accepted her presence without a word. Camille decided to stay in the background and pretend she was only there as a supporting friend who’d give advice or a second opinion. That seemed to be the best approach. She was a little disappointed that Richard didn’t make any move to introduce her as his girlfriend or partner, but she understood – he didn’t want to make much of an ado about their relationship before they had talked to her mother. If this house issue panned out, though, they’d have to talk to her this weekend… and in a flash, Camille realised that it would perhaps also help to solve another fairly pressing problem.

About half an hour later, they sat down in the Sandersons’ living room. Mrs Sanderson had showed them everything, and her husband had thanked them once again for the way they had handled the situation with his father. “You know, Sergeant, I hate to leave Saint Marie,” he said to Camille, “but it seems to be the best we can do under the circumstances given. Also, my sister is on Jamaica, so in case anything happened, we could always decide things as a family. That was the problem here - we felt that all the responsibility was on our shoulders. My wife’s family is not so happy, though. They would prefer us to stay here, but they understand, of course, that given the current situation, moving to Jamaica is the better option.”

He cleared his throat, and his wife now addressed to Richard “We have considered selling the house, but this piece of land has been in the family for a long time, although the house is fairly new, and so we would like to rent out the house, for a long term lease, like two years or so – and in case we can come to an agreement, there would always be the possibility of extending the contract beyond that. Once the lease runs out for good and is not renewed, we can – er – reclaim the land for the family – so to speak. As I understand, you’re here on an assignment from the UK, so perhaps you also prefer a lease to buying.”

She looked over to her husband and added, hesitatingly “Often times, it’s more expensive to rent than to buy, but when you called us, we talked about it, and we realise that the house – while it’s well taken care of – is not in top condition, and there are a few repairs that a new tenant or owner would have to tackle, not to mention the garden which sadly has been a little neglected… so, we were thinking a monthly payment of – er…” and she named a sum that Richard and Camille felt was quite affordable for them.

Richard currently paid very little rent for the shack, but it lacked all sorts of amenities, and this house had all he could wish for, plus it was spacious. There was a large living room with a dining area on the ground floor, plus an extra room that could be used as a bedroom for guests (Camille remembered that the husband’s father had stayed in there – his special needs bed had been replaced by a regular sofa bed in the meantime, though), and the kitchen with all appliances also was fairly big. A bathroom with a large shower cabin – adapted to the needs of an elderly, partly immobile person - completed the amenities on the ground floor. A utility room with washer and dryer, ironing board, spacious shelves and the like was in an extension to the house that could also be accessed from the outside.

It was all very practical, and Richard liked it – it wasn’t posh or sophisticated, but he didn’t need that, anyway. On the first floor, there were two spacious bedrooms – one of them with an ensuite bathroom (with a bathtub! Camille had a vision of having a luxurious bubble bath with Richard scrubbing her back and serving her champagne… or better yet, both of them sitting in the bath and having champagne together…) – a smaller extra bathroom with a shower, plus a smallish room, currently used as storage room, that could be used as an office or study. There were built-in closets and cabinets, so there would be storage space. Also, there were ceiling fans in all rooms as well as air conditioning, so that would be a major improvement, too.

Camille’s rent at her mother’s was a special arrangement, so she had been prepared to pay more. Both of them would have to spend more on the rent for this house than they currently had to pay, but it was affordable, it was lavish and large compared to their respective current accommodation, they would have privacy, and they’d be near the beach. The house came furnished – Camille didn’t mind as her current flat was furnished as well, as was Richard’s shack - this way they wouldn’t have to spend additional money on furniture. And everything was in good condition. It didn’t look very stylish or ‘top notch’, but never mind, it was part of the house, and it was pleasant and homely. They’d get a new mattress for the bed, maybe new curtains and a couple of new cushions for the living room – she had already decided that. And there’d be other things that would make it ‘their’ home eventually. But apart from all that – they could live with what was inside the house… and very conveniently so.

She and Richard exchanged a glance. “What do you think, Camille?” he asked. Trying to hide her excitement, she replied almost sedately “It’s a lovely place, and I think it would be very suitable, so…”

“Right,” said Richard and turned to the couple sitting opposite to him and Camille. “I think you just got your house off the market…”

The Sandersons seemed relieved that they didn’t have to wade through a crowd of potential tenants, the Inspector seemed trustworthy, and so they discussed a few more particulars of the contract, the moving dates and other details. Richard gave them his e-mail address, and they promised to send the draft for the contract by Monday.

When they sat in the Rover again, Richard – who was a little stupefied at how quickly they had made their decision – asked her slowly “Now, tell me, Camille… have we just decided to rent this house and move in there in a little over a month?” She laughed out loud and said happily “I think we did, yes – or rather you did… but if you ask me nicely, I’ll happily shack up with you and even pay my part of the rent…”

With that, she drove off. When she reached the end of the dirt road where she could either go back to Honoré or turn to the beach, she stopped and looked at Richard.

“We should talk,” she said. He nodded and smiled at her, and they drove down to the beach.

**************

About an hour later, Catherine received a phone call. It wasn’t so loud in the bar any more, but still she went outside and took a few steps away from La Kaz.

“Camille! What’s the matter? Where are you? What? Okay. Right. Well, if you insist… what do you… oh… I see…” She flushed. “Hm. Yes, I’ll ask. As far as I’m concerned, eleven is okay. Yes. Good. Have a good time, darling, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“What was that?” Mark had come up to her, anxiously looking at her. Catherine turned around, a slightly confused look on her face, and said “That was Camille. She said she’s not coming back tonight, and I shouldn’t worry, she’s staying with a friend, and she’ll explain everything tomorrow. She asked if you’d be ready to – er – join us at around eleven… seems she wants you to be present for whatever it is. If you ask me, it sounds like she’s trying to arrange one of the denouéments they have after having solved a murder case, but obviously, it can’t be that. I can’t quite figure out what to make of it, but knowing Camille, I’d say all I can do is wait and see. So, sweetheart, do you think eleven is okay for you?” Mark stroked her bare arms and said “Sure. I’ll be there. You know I’d do everything for you, Catherine!”

She smiled happily. “You know what, come to think about it… since Camille won’t be here tonight…”

Mark was still holding her hands. He squeezed them lightly now and said pensively “Oh, Catherine… You mean… ? Yes, let’s see how things develop over here. Maybe you’d like to have some company later on?”

They exchanged a loving glance, and she whispered “Yes, maybe… actually, I’m rather sure I’d like that very much, Mark!”

***************

Down on the beach, in Richard’s shack, Camille sat back in her chair on the veranda and said “So, it’s decided. I still can’t quite believe it, you know. Only yesterday, you asked me, and today we’re ready to sign a contract. We’re both going to sign, aren’t we?”

He raised his eyebrows and took a sip of his water. “Why, of course, Camille – I thought I had made that clear! We’re going to live together, so we’re going to share it all – good and bad. I don’t want you to feel – um - dependent on me – you’re not going to live there because I ‘let’ you, but because you want to… or so I thought.”

Her eyes were shining when she looked at him. They were so bright, it almost seemed like she was holding back tears. Richard looked away. He was a little embarrassed and unsure about how to react to her unusually emotional behaviour. Suddenly he heard her laughing softly, and she said “I’m making you feel uncomfortable, hm?” She got up and went over to him. Before he knew what she was up to, she was on his lap and had put her arms around his neck.

“It’s just that… you know, Richard, this is a first. I know I seem to welcome change, and I do, really, I’m fun-loving and open to pretty much anything, but that’s just one side of the coin. The truth is that I’m really very cautious about letting people into my life, and while I’m theoretically ‘friends’ with everyone, only few people really know me. I keep saying that it’s okay to need others, but that never really applied to myself, it only was valid for others. Until now.” She kissed him lightly.

Then she went on “It’s a major step for me to admit that I need someone. And I do need you. I mean, I could live without you, if I had to… but I don’t want to. I’m not used to that feeling, and I hadn’t expected this to happen… So, I’m a little emotional about all that. The months before we… well, you know… got together have been stormy for me, and it seems like I have reached some sort of haven after all… oh, really - I promise not to be so pompous all the time, but I thought you should know how this all makes me feel. I’m happy, you know…”

“Hmmm.” He still felt a little awkward. Openly displayed emotions had always made him feel uncomfortable. But then again, this was Camille, and it wasn’t like she was doing this in the middle of an open market square all the time. As long as she did it in private, he was fine with it. She put her head on his shoulder, and a sudden feeling of peace and gratitude came over him. He smiled as he looked at her and whispered “I’m happy, too…”

Living with Camille would be good – it wouldn’t always be easy, and they’d have to tough it out every once in a while, but it would all be worth it. She was the companion that he had always wished for, even when he had claimed that he was happy on his own. He began to stroke her hair, and she sighed contentedly…


	25. Coming Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting closer to the end now - penultimate chapter here. I hope you'll enjoy it :-)

Sunday arrived, and Richard woke up to the smell of toast, scrambled eggs and coffee. Camille had let him sleep a bit longer.

When she had woken up, she had rolled over on her side and watched him sleeping, a wave of tenderness washing over her as she did so: He looked so relaxed and young as he lay there, his hair was sticking out in all directions, one of his hands was under the pillow, the other lay on the sheets… it was hard to believe that he was the Chief of the local police, cool as a cucumber on the job, brilliant in his deductions, skillful in finding evidence through homespun scientific experiments… yet he could transform into a petulant childish idiot within seconds… or into a pedantic moron… or into a funny quipster… or into a tender and passionate lover.

He had so many facettes, and she was the one who’d get to see all of them. She had thought back to how she had originally wanted to ‘reform’ him when she had got to know him… What a fool she had been! She knew now that he had everything one could wish for, it was just hidden under layers and layers of self-discipline, caution, inhibitions and natural reservedness. And since he had opened up to her, she had realised that there was absolutely no need to reform him…

Since she had felt she’d need a little time to get mentally prepared for the forthcoming conversation with her mother, she had got up quietly, taken a brief shower and then started preparing breakfast.

She never managed to brew Richard’s tea exactly the way he liked it, so they had agreed that coffee was okay on the occasions when she made breakfast – and out of fairness, she drank tea when he made breakfast. She had got used to it – more or less at least – she still preferred coffee, but tea was okay for her now, too. They had automatically started to make compromises over the past few months, and it worked fine. There was no battling for the ultimate state of control or for power, no attempting to set off against each other – it wasn’t about who was stronger, better, more clever. It was about both of them accepting the other one with flaws, quirks, funny and not so funny sides.

Camille had not exaggerated – this was the first time she ever experienced this – at least to this extent. And it surprised her that he had slipped into this new relationship and all its patterns so quickly, too – she had expected him to cling more to old habits and routines. He still had his pig-headed moments, sometimes they over-reacted or argued, and he generally wasn’t great with change, but they had started small, and he was more willing to compromise than she had expected. Every once in a while, there were little setbacks, but generally speaking, it had been easier than anticipated.

She heard him moving and getting up, the water bottle beside the bed was opened, and he took a swig from it. When he approached to give her a good morning kiss, she smiled happily. He looked so cute in his blue striped pyjama trousers! She bent down a little, rubbed her cheek against his chest and murmured “oooh… chest hair alarm!” He chuckled, silenced her with a quick kiss and then gently pushed her to the side so he could access the bathroom. “Mind you, I’ll miss that about the lack of space here,” he remarked. She laughed and said teasingly “Don’t worry, I’ll find other ways to keep you entertained!”

He quickly brushed his teeth and came to have breakfast before taking his shower. When they finally were ready to leave, she took his hand and said “If she says anything – er – not so nice, please don’t take it personally. She might not understand what I see in you, but she doesn’t necessarily have to – the main thing is that I’m sure about what I want, and I am - definitely!” He nodded and smiled reassuringly, and they drove off to meet up with her mother and Mark at La Kaz. They both were nervous, but they were sure of one another, and that was all that counted.

The bar was closed, but one of the shutters was open, and a draft of air came in through the back door. The “We are closed” sign was hanging on the main entrance door. Catherine and Mark were sitting in peaceful silence at one of the corner tables, looking out of the open window.

Catherine had been confused by Camille’s phonecall the day before, but now that she saw her daughter approaching the bar with Richard in tow, it all fell into place. She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a cry of sudden understanding. So she had been right with her suspicion! She had been wondering on and off, but since Camille and Richard hadn’t changed their usual behaviour patterns in public, she just hadn’t been sure…

Every once in a while she had thought she had detected a sign of mutual affection that could perhaps go beyond their good work relationship, but then they had started bickering or discussing cases again, the moment had been gone, and she had concluded that she had misinterpreted it all. Camille’s visits at the beach hadn’t been out of the ordinary – and she had never fancied the really busy ones, so it hadn’t been suspicious that nobody had seen her. She had also kept up her regular gym routine, and the occasional evening out when she didn’t say where she was going had piqued Catherine’s curiosity, but she had kept her mouth shut – and although she had kept her ears open, she had never heard anything from her friends and acquaintances, so Camille obviously had gone to places outside of Honoré - where most of Catherine’s ‘informants’ lived.

And then, of course, she also had been somewhat distracted lately and not focused on Camille…

She didn’t quite know how to feel about the whole situation, but well, what could she do but simply accept the fact that her daughter had apparently found her Mr Right… even if she had doubts, it wasn’t really any of her business… But still – why it had to be _Richard_ remained a mystery to her!

She got up to hug Camille, Mark stood and extended his hand to Richard. The two men silently nodded at one another. Then there was an awkward pause as Richard suddenly found himself facing Catherine. She seemed unsure about how to react to his presence, and he clearly felt uncomfortable on her turf. “Catherine,” he finally said, with the slightest nod.

She looked at him, still unsure – for the first time during all the years of their acquaintance, she didn’t know what to say. So, her speculations hadn’t been off the mark… Why on earth Camille fancied him – she had no clue. But well, it seemed her daughter had made her decision, so Catherine took a deep breath, nodded back and said “Richard… now, that’s a bit of a surprise.”

“I guess so…” he said.

She saw how a small smile curled the corners of his mouth, and he added drily “Can’t say you look thrilled, but I promise you, as long as you don’t feed me chicken soup, I’ll be totally civil.”

This was an unexpected remark – this man really had a sense of humour. And she appreciated that he tried to lighten up the situation and take away some of the tension.

So, she smiled reluctantly, took a step forward, lightly touched his shoulders and kissed his cheek. Richard was flummoxed, but tried not to show it. He stiffened slightly, then took a seat at the table, next to Camille – who looked at him with fondness and pride. Catherine had never seen her like this. She covered up the choke that suddenly came up in her throat with a cough and asked – feigning cheerfulness - what they’d like to drink, sending a pleading look to Mark.

Mark got a round of cool drinks and put them down in front of what appeared to be stuffed dummies sitting around the table. Then he sat down, too, obviously at the end of his wits. He hadn’t had a chance to observe and experience the Bordey women and Richard interacting yet, at least not in a more private situation, so this was unfamiliar ground for him, and while he felt the tension, he couldn’t quite understand what was going on. As far as he was concerned, Richard was a nice enough chap, a little too reserved maybe, but not unpleasant. He seemed to be good at his job, and during the superficial conversations that they had had, Mark had got the impression that Richard was perhaps a little eccentric and sometimes quite awkward, but who was he to judge that?

Camille finally opened her mouth after what seemed to be an eternity, and once she had made a start, the words just came naturally. Catherine was gobsmacked when she realised that Richard and her daughter had been a couple for several months already, right under her nose, without her – or anybody else – really being aware of it. She had really been too distracted, obviously, and Camille and Richard had been extremely cautious. Or sneaky. Depended on how you wanted to look at it…

“So… the thing is, Maman, Richard and I have decided to move in together. We have found a house, and we will move there in a little over a month.”

Richard saw Catherine’s arched eyebrows and felt it was time for him to say something as well although Camille seemed to do fine so far. He shifted a little in his seat, trying to muster up the courage to say what he wanted to say – and finally came out with it.

“You know, Catherine… it’s not that we’re not committed to one another. We’re just – um - taking it slowly. This is a major step for both of us, and we think it’s better not to make rash decisions. It seems sensible this way to us, and if you’re concerned, then I understand, but it won’t make us change our mind. It’s entirely Camille’s and my decision, and we’re not here to ask for permission. We’re here to inform you and to explain our resolve.”

Catherine cleared her throat and said “But if you want to stay together, anyway, I don’t quite understand why you’re not getting married… I mean, at your age, I’d expect that you’d know where you stand and want to – er – do things properly…”

Camille was about to explode and made ready to say something, but Richard lightly squeezed her hand, and she closed her mouth again. Catherine was stunned – she had never seen Camille react that way before, and Richard seemed rather cool and in control – a little tense perhaps, but not as flustered as he usually tended to be in difficult situations that were personally uncomfortable for him.

“Look, Catherine – it doesn’t seem quite – er - fair that you say your daughter should get involved with someone, and then, when she does, you say she should do it on your terms. We all live our lives as good as we can, and we act based on our experiences. Everybody has the right to do what they think is good for them, and as long as nobody gets harmed in the process, I figure we’re free in our decisions. As I’ve already said - we’re not here to – um - discuss the fact that Camille and I will move in together – this is not negotiable, and we’re going to do it, whether you like it or not.” His voice sounded a tad mulish at this point.

He finished his little speech by adding “But as it is, Camille has another suggestion to make that might solve some of the issues that have come up recently.”

Catherine realised that he had a point with what he said – although she couldn’t admit it yet. The Pattersons had held a similar point of view – she remembered how the Commissioner had mentioned that in their generation, many unhappy marriages and divorces could have been prevented if people had had a chance to get to know each other more properly before making a life changing decision and getting married in order to conform socially. She also realised that marriage didn’t automatically mean more security – she and her husband had fallen out of love and they had separated after several years. So there were no guarantees, anyway… And she remembered Lizelle’s appeal to remain open to whatever might happen, even if she didn’t like it at first.

She sighed and said “Well, I think I shouldn’t be surprised. Camille has always had a mind of her own, and obviously times have changed… so, if you think this is the right way for you, then so be it. I suppose I’ll get used to it. But if you haven’t come to ask for my blessings, what’s that suggestion you’re talking about?”

Camille spoke up again and said “Thanks, Maman – I knew you’d understand once we explain it. You know, I’ve been thinking…”

Richard snorted, and she turned to him and said, with raised eyebrows and in a slightly irritated voice “What?”

“Well, I’ve heard that overture a couple of times lately, and I’ve become a little wary of it…”

“Oh, shut up! I’ve had some brilliant ideas along the way, haven’t I?” Richard rolled his eyes, but smiled forbearingly. She turned to Catherine and Mark again who had followed that brief exchange with some amusement. Catherine bit her lip. If she had needed further proof for the intimacy of their relationship, there it was – their communication was easy, they understood each other without having to make many words, and Richard – the cool, reserved, awkward Richard - was still holding Camille’s hand…

“Right… so, since I will move out… you know, I’ve said that Alex and Billy can’t stay in that awful shed on the beach where they’re currently living. So, my idea is that they could move into my flat and pay the same rent that I paid, if you’re okay with that. I know that Billy has a lot of talents, and others know that, too… one of the hotels actually offered him a job a little while ago – in one of their bars where he helped out on and off for some time. He turned it down, but they said to him that he was always welcome if he changed his mind. He knew he couldn’t possibly bring along Alex, and she’d be alone a lot of the time – he didn’t want her to hang around over here all the time where she might be in your way or make you feel like you had to pay her despite her lack of experience and confidence… She’s not exactly what I’d call a wallflower, but she’s always been more of a background person, and he knew that if she wanted to work here permanently, she’d have to be more outgoing, and he also knew she couldn’t do that as it’s not her nature.”

Camille took a sip of her drink and went on “That was the main reason why he didn’t accept it – but when I spoke to Alex yesterday, she said she felt guilty because she knew he would have enjoyed the job, and they offered some good benefits. As much as he loves being here, he knows there’s no perspective, other than being ‘the help’, and Alex said she’d like to live somewhere better, particularly now that they’ll have the baby, but they cannot really afford it. Since you…” - she nodded in Mark’s direction – “have shown up here, he has even less to do, and he has been feeling a little desperate.”

Mark’s face fell. He was clearly aghast when he said “I didn’t know that – oh dear! I didn’t want to… good grief… if only I had known… Makes me feel awful… ” He looked to Catherine, swallowed hard and said “And I have already er – pretty much decided to stay here because…” He didn’t finish his sentence. Camille smiled knowingly as her mother blushed. She bit back a smile and suppressed the urge to ask Catherine when she and Mark would get married – it would have been fun to pick on her like that, but not very helpful.

Richard shot a sympathetic glance in Mark’s direction. He liked him, and he could feel his pain. He had thought he was being helpful and hadn’t realised that Billy had earned less because of his presence. At the same time, Catherine hadn’t understood the context, either – she just hadn’t thought about it. Somehow, it made Richard feel a little smug – he thought it was a good feeling to see that Mrs Know-it-all-can-fix-everything-let-me-run-your-life hadn’t realised the bare facts right in front of her eyes. He wasn’t particularly proud of this feeling of complacency – but he didn’t think it was of any harm, either, as long as he didn’t gloat openly.

Camille continued “Well, never mind, Mark. I had actually hoped you’d say that. Since you and Maman run the bar together now, Billy is free to take on another job, and Alex could stay here, help out occasionally and get ready for the baby. She’s not all that far yet, but she can’t possibly take on any regular work – nobody would employ her under these circumstances, and she has been feeling unwell quite a bit, so she’s afraid she couldn’t do a proper job, anyway. The flat is in good condition, she’d have all the amenities that she’s currently missing, and she’d have company.”

Richard smiled inwardly. He thought it was very clever of Camille not to point out that there’d be a baby in the near future to distract Catherine from thinking about grandchildren – that hint would have been far too obvious. Also, she didn’t discuss Catherine’s relationship with Mark as the central topic – she only just broached it briefly. Catherine would understand soon enough that all sorts of good things would come with letting the flat to Billy and Alex, giving him the chance to take on a new job with a regular income, and having her around for company. She could have Mark around without having to feel that she’d have to tread lightly because of her daughter, and Alex would compensate for Camille’s absence – at least to a certain extent.

At the same time, he and Camille could find their feet in the new situation, they’d have privacy, and they wouldn’t have to face any hostility or meddling from Catherine.

“Well…” Catherine had apparently digested the news. Richard had literally seen the cogs moving in her head – and he was glad that she took the whole thing much better than expected. It had been a good idea of Camille to intertwine the fact that they’d move in together with Alex’ pregnancy and the need to find a more decent place to live for her and Billy. Now these two only had to agree to the suggestion, but Richard had no doubt that they’d do so. Catherine and Camille could be very convincing, and all in all, it was a good solution for their problem, too.

Mark put a big hand over Catherine’s and said tenderly “Stay where you are. I’ll get some champagne – this clearly is a perfect reason to celebrate!”

So, Camille and Richard found themselves clinking their glasses and bringing out toasts with Catherine and Mark – and although all of them had slightly mixed feelings about the situation and felt a little unsure about what the future would bring, they were glad they had talked about it and solved the issue without any resentments. For now, they had every reason to be happy.

********************

Monday arrived, and Richard opened his e-mail at work. There was the draft of the contract that the Sandersons had promised to send. He had chosen to have it sent to his work address – he principally tried to keep private and professional e-mails separately, but he couldn’t print out anything from his laptop, so this time, it had to be the work account. He looked through it, and all seemed fine. It was pretty much the standard contract, but there was an attachment in which all the peculiarities were listed that they had agreed on.

Richard checked them – and everything was perfect. The Sandersons were clearly very thorough and correct – he was optimistic that they’d be good landlords. In his experience you only had trouble with people who were too jovial and unspecific about contract matters. The business like tone of their e-mail didn’t disturb him – he was used to formal exchanges and found them correct in this context. They weren’t going to be best friends – they were heading into a business relationship, nothing else.

In the section ‘tenant’ he added Camille’s name next to his own, then he printed it all out, signed it and placed it in a folder that he put into his briefcase. He’d let Camille sign later on, and then he’d take the whole thing to the Sandersons after work.

Fidel arrived and made a surprised face to find the Chief in the office already – but then he remembered that it was time for Richard’s monthly appointment with the Commissioner today, so he assumed that he wanted to compile documents and files for the meeting. Richard nodded briefly and said a short “Morning” in response to Fidel’s greeting.

Dwayne showed up, too – judging from his face, he had another hangover. Richard sighed inwardly. He would have to talk to Dwayne about that rather sooner than later – it was happening too often these days, and it couldn’t go on like that.

Finally, also Camille sailed into the station, wishing everyone a good morning. She sported a radiant smile and slid onto her chair without pulling it away from the desk. Richard frowned at her and said “Camille… could I talk to you for a moment, please?”

Dwayne and Fidel exchanged a nervous look. Was he going to reprimand her for being late? If Richard gave Camille a slating for that, it meant he was in a foul mood… that didn’t bode well. The Inspector and his Detective Sergeant went out to talk on the the porch, but no matter how hard the boys tried to catch what they were talking about, they only understood the words ‘Commissioner’, ‘file’, ‘house’ and ‘later’ clearly, other than that it was all a steady murmur, and the fragments they picked up didn’t give them any hint – and the body language didn’t reveal anything unusual, either.

So, they concluded it was about Richard having to see the Commissioner at the Government House and taking along a specific file – and that he’d be back later. Camille nodded, from what they could see, and then she smiled at him and wished him good luck. Fidel and Dwayne were relieved – it wasn’t anything negative then, and Camille wasn’t in trouble…

Richard shouted “See you later!” in direction of the boys and descended the stairs. Camille still stood on the porch when he climbed into the Defender and zoomed off. She hoped all would go well. She would have loved to give him a clearer sign of encouragement than just secretly squeezing his hand (under the file he had taken out of his briefcase to show her the contract!) and wishing him good luck, but as long as the Commissioner didn’t know, they couldn’t tell the boys, and she didn’t want to embarrass him in front of them…

*************

As he arrived at the Government House, Richard was a bit of a nervous wreck, but then he pulled himself together and said to his reflection in the rear mirror “You can do it – you survived the conversation with Catherine, the Commissioner can’t possibly be worse…”

It was time for the monthly reports and appraisals, and Richard had decided it was the perfect moment for telling the Commissioner what was going on. He nodded briefly towards Jackie in the ‘antechamber’ – as Selwyn Patterson liked to call his secretary’s office – and then moved right into the ‘belly of the beast’.

The Commissioner was his usual solid self. He listened to Richard’s account of the team’s activities, the evaluation of efficiency, the list of planned projects for the forthcoming months, and finally the appraisals of the team members. Richard started with Dwayne, went over Fidel and finally closed with Camille. All appraisals were positive – Richard didn’t waste one single thought on saying anything about Dwayne’s recent lapses – he’d sort that out face-to-face with his officer.

Selwyn Patterson leant back in his chair and said gravely “Now, that all sounds very good, Inspector. It seems that the team is – er – doing splendidly… as expected, I suppose…” Then he moved forward again, folded his hands and propped up his elbows on the desk. With an inquiring look he continued “And have you been able to – er – make Sergeant Bordey reconsider her wish to leave Saint Marie?”

“Er… yes, Commissioner, she has given up on that plan in the meantime.”

“Ah. So, you talked about it?” The massive man behind the desk leant back again. Richard wished he’d keep still – it was making him a bit nervous that the Commissioner kept shifting back and forth like a bloody old rocking chair.

Selwyn Patterson was curious what the Inspector would say next. Would he admit to the relationship, or would he try to brush over it?

He almost fell off his chair when Richard looked at him intently (and with a slightly stubborn feature around his mouth) and said “Yes, we did, and I think I can say with some certainty that you don’t need to worry. Instead of leaving the team and moving to another country, Sergeant Bordey – er - will move in with me… in a little over a month.”


	26. Grand Finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go - final chapter! I hope you'll enjoy it :-) I also hope that although this has been a long story, I didn't bore anyone out of their wits. It's been fun to write - also because this is such a fun community - but I know that every once in a while, some of you might have felt it was getting too long.
> 
> Thanks everyone for reading, for feedback, for kudos, for commenting... it's all very much appreciated!

“You said what?“ Camille looked at him in disbelief. Richard chuckled and said “Exactly what I just told you. And mind you, it was extremely satisfying to see the totally dumbstruck look on his face. Kind of made up for all the times he has made me look stupid… He was literally speechless.”

They were sitting in the office, Dwayne and Fidel were out for their regular pre-lunchtime patrol over the market. Camille had been eager to know what the Commissioner’s reaction had been ever since Richard had come back from the Government House. His reassuring smile had taken away the tension, and she had known that the appointment hadn’t been a catastrophe, but she couldn’t wait to find out about the details…

She perched on his desk as soon as the boys had left the station and demanded to hear the complete story. Richard gave her a detailed account of what had been said, and she couldn’t help but laugh out loud – it was all very comical. Apparently, the Commissioner had been so flabbergasted that it had taken him two minutes to find his voice again. “And I thought his eyes would pop out of his face, you know…” Richard chortled.

Eventually, however, he had handled the unexpected announcement with great nonchalance. He had got up, come round his desk and extended his hand to congratulate Richard. Then a couple of questions had followed, Richard had answered – although his response in regard to how long they had been a couple had remained consciously vague and evasive. He didn’t want the Commissioner to know that when he had talked to him at the station right after the renovation works, they had already been together. That was none of the Commissioner’s business, Richard felt.

Selwyn Patterson hadn’t made a song and a dance when Richard had mentioned there were no engagement or wedding plans at this point. He had just nodded and said “That’s your own personal decision. The general codex says that members of the force have to live in respectable circumstances, and the times when people couldn’t live together without being married obviously are over. Not being married doesn’t mean that a couple isn’t committed to one another, and if Sergeant Bordey and you are happy that way, all is good. I trust that your personal – er – relationship will not mar your professional judgement, Inspector, and I’m sure that Sergeant Bordey and you will continue to work well together.”

Richard had said that they _might_ consider marriage eventually, but at the moment, it would be too early to say anything definite. Camille smiled when he reiterated this part of the conversation. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “I had to say something to satisfy the conservative streak in him, and as far as I’m concerned – I’m not excluding anything.”

“No, no, that’s alright… I see it the same way,” she responded hastily. It was endearing how concerned he was about her opinion on that matter all of a sudden…

“So, can we tell the boys now?” she wanted to know.

“I think so, but let’s wait until after work. Before taking the contract to the Sandersons, we can go to your mother’s bar and have a little – er – celebration. Just something totally informal – I’ll buy drinks, and then we can – um – make the announcement… I need to talk to Dwayne about something, and it wouldn’t quite – er – fit into the context, you know.”

“Ah, right… is it about the recent series of hangovers?”

Richard pulled a face and said “I can’t ignore it any longer. It has become worse, and he’s pretty much useless on Mondays at the moment. It’s a good thing we haven’t had any difficult cases lately, so it hasn’t really affected the team all that much, but he can’t go on like that. It’s not good for him, and I would be a bad supervisor if I kept ignoring it. I have ignored it for a while because I thought he’d get over it with time, but it keeps happening, and it will have consequences if he continues this way. Would you – er – go for a harbour patrol with Fidel after lunch? I mean, there’s not terribly much to do around here at the moment, and it would give me a chance to - er – approach him without embarrassing him.”

Camille smiled warmly. “You know, Richard, you’re a good boss,” she said tenderly and ruffled his hair. “You’ve always been a good detective, but you’ve become a much better boss over the time you’ve been here.”

He blushed and gave her a doubtful smile.

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s just that I – er…”

“You care about Dwayne, don’t you?”

He looked at his neatly polished shoes, suddenly embarrassed, and admitted “Yeah, well, I guess so… I mean, of course, I do. He’s a nice bloke, and while I’m not always happy with his – er – interpretation of the rules, I think he’s very resourceful and – um - warm-hearted, and I certainly don’t wish him any harm. So…”

“I know,” she said. “Don’t worry, Fidel and I will have a nice long walk around the harbour, and you can give Dwayne a lecture.”

She bent down to kiss him, and it took them both quite a bit of self-control to stop themselves. But this wasn’t the place or the time… so minutes later, when Dwayne and Fidel returned, she and Richard sat at their respective desks again, totally prim and proper - and the epitome of respectability.

After lunch, Camille got up, stretched her body and said “I wish I could take a walk around the marina or somewhere. I’m so tired – it would refresh me. I’m bored to death with these files…” She looked at the binders and files on her desk, with a contemptuous glare. Richard arched his eyebrows and exchanged a glance with Fidel. The younger officer nodded slightly, got up and said “Come on, Camille – let’s go to the harbour and see what’s happening there. That should be more interesting – and these files can surely wait…”

They left the station, and after a little while, Richard cleared his throat and said “Dwayne.” No reaction. Richard sighed, got up and took a dishtowel from the knob next to the sink. He opened the tap, soaked the towel in cold water, went over to Dwayne’s desk and put it right on the officer’s nape. He was rewarded with a shriek – and Dwayne was awake again. He was horrified when he saw the Chief standing beside him and began to apologise. Richard pulled over Fidel’s chair, to the side of Dwayne’s desk, and said “Seriously, Dwayne, you can’t go on like this…”

*************

At five o’clock, Richard closed the file on his desk with an audible sigh and said “Time to shut down the station, team. Let’s go to La Kaz and have a drink!” Fidel, Dwayne and Camille had left the station before Richard could change his mind. He took off his tie, folded it and slipped it in the pocket of his jacket. Then he opened the top button of his shirt, took his briefcase and followed them to La Kaz.

At the bar, Mark took their orders, and Richard said “Oh, drinks are on me, by the way…” He took off his jacket and hung it over his chair, rolled up his sleeves and then raised his eyebrows. “What?” he asked when he realised that Dwayne and Fidel were watching him. Fidel looked surprised, Dwayne seemed confused and asked “Er… it’s your jacket… and the drinks… is there anything to celebrate, Chief?”, and Camille just smiled.

“I guess so… but let’s wait until we have our drinks,” Richard said enigmatically. They sat down, and within a minute, Mark had brought their order. The surprise was complete when it turned out that Richard did not have tea this time, but a colourful cocktail.

Camille sat down next to Richard, and much to the boys’ surprise, the Chief put his hand on hers and said “You may have noticed – or maybe you haven’t? - that – er – we – er – Camille and I – have become – well… closer - over the past months, and – well - I don’t want to make a big bombast out of this, so let me just tell you that we – er – have found a house and will – um – move in together in a little over a month… and – er – “

He didn’t get any further. Fidel and Dwayne jumped off their chairs, there was a helter-skelter of voices and surprised exclamations, Fidel took his hand and shook it so fiercely that Richard thought his arm would fall off, and Dwayne came over to hug Camille. After that, he gave Richard a violent pat on the shoulder and exclaimed “Wow, Chief – well done!”

Catherine watched the bedlam with some amusement from the distance. She didn’t know when and how it had happened, but Richard had become a real part of this team with time. It had taken him long enough – but it seemed like he had finally arrived for good… Well, as long as he didn’t mess up with Camille, all was fine…

As far as she was concerned, she figured he was okay, and they’d get along in general… that should do.

After all, it was Camille who’d have to live with him, not her. She’d have Mark…

****************

The next weeks were busy with packing things (fortunately, neither of them had too much stuff to pack… Camille was thankful that she had just recently decluttered her wardrobe and her other belongings) and getting the move organised. The Sandersons moved to Jamaica two weeks before Richard and Camille were to take possession of the house, and so they hired Nick and Vincent to paint the rooms in fresh colours. The Sandersons didn’t mind – after all, the Inspector paid for it all, and since he and his lovely girlfriend would live there, they had every right to make the house their home.

Camille and Richard purchased bedlinen, towels and curtains, there also were a couple of cushions and blankets, and of course a new mattress, but other than that, they didn’t really need anything new. Their landlords had left all the kitchenware for them to use – they couldn’t take that with them, anyway, so why not leave it for their tenants? Richard had given them a decent compensation for all the things – he was happy that he didn’t have to buy anything new (not to mention that he wasn’t particularly keen on spending hours on end in stores, picking out china or cutlery).

Fortunately, the move went smoothly. They did it all within a day – thanks to Dwayne, Fidel and Juliet helping as much as they could, there were no problems. Billy and Mark had offered their help, too, but it turned out that they weren’t needed after all.

The Roast Beef was relocated as well – by Fidel and Juliet who had taken the opportunity to go on a little rowing adventure together while their parents were watching over Rosie.

Alex and Billy had been flabbergasted when Camille had asked them if they wanted to take over her flat with all the furniture and everything else that was inside. Alex had actually started to cry when she had understood that they could leave the beach shed that had no decent plumbing and was little more than just a hovel under a set of palm trees. It had seemed romantic at first, but reality was that it was terribly inconvenient in the long run. Billy was grateful and relieved – he had been so worried over Alex, but he hadn’t known what to do about the situation.

Catherine had spoken to several hoteliers, Billy had gone for interviews, and two places had come up with job offers – one was just a part time contract, but the other was full time, and Billy accepted that one. He’d have regular working hours, and he could still help out at La Kaz on weekends. Given the fact that they’d have a decent flat now and Catherine would always welcome Alex in the bar, he didn’t feel guilty any more for leaving her when going to work – he knew she was safe and happy where she was. So, that all turned out well.

Richard had initially felt a little sorry about giving up the shack – despite its obvious inconveniences, it seemed sad that it would most likely get boarded up and abandoned. However, his worries were for nothing…

It had turned out that Dwayne’s weekend drinking escapades had mostly happened due to the fact that he had had a slightly wild house guest for a while. Eddie – the electrician – had been chucked out of his place because the landlord’s daughter had wanted the flat he lived in, and he had found shelter at Dwayne’s.

When Richard had confronted Dwayne about his frequent Monday hangovers and that he would have to face consequences at work sooner or later, Dwayne had hung his head in shame and told him about the misery. “You know, Chief, Eddie is a nice chap, and we get on well… most of the time. I don’t have the heart to kick him out as he has no place to go, but you see what it’s doing to me… and I can’t even take anybody else home now because I never know whether or not he will be there, and if he’s not home when he’ll show up. You know, it’s not very nice for a lady when she has to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and is confronted with a snoring bloke on the couch…”

Richard hadn’t even wanted to imagine what that was like. He wouldn’t want to be confronted with this sort of thing, either. For the moment, all he had been able to do was listen and appeal to Dwayne to take better care of himself, but Camille and he had talked it over and decided to ask Eddie if he wanted to rent the shack instead of Richard, provided the owner was okay with it. It wasn’t too expensive, and he had loved the place when he had come to fix the fusebox, and indeed – he’d been excited and said yes, after having talked to the owner who was pleased to have someone renting the place. Eddie had been happy to have a place of his own again – and Dwayne had been more than relieved to see him go. Their friendship had undergone an extensive stress test over the past weeks!

*************

On the evening after the move, Richard and Camille were bone-tired. When everyone was gone, they had a quick dinner, watched a little TV and then went straight to bed. Camille cuddled up to Richard who just managed to murmur an apologetic and exhausted “I’m dead for now, Camille, sorry…” into her hair – he didn’t hear her response any more – a very tired “me, too” – and that was their first evening in their new home.

When Camille woke up on the next morning, she didn’t quite know where she was at first. She shifted slightly, and her sore muscles brought her back to reality quickly. She inhaled sharply when she sat up and went to the bathroom – whew, that was painful. Oh well, she’d get over it.

She marvelled at the convenience of having a bathroom right next to her bedroom. The ensuite was pure luxury for her – none of her previous flats had had an amenity like that. When she climbed back into bed, her eyes fell on the keyring that she had put on the nightstand last night. She grinned, remembering her mother’s reaction. Catherine had noticed that she and Richard had matching keyrings and asked about them. Camille had explained that Richard had come up with those when he had asked her if she wanted to move in with him, and Catherine had responded with arched eyebrows that this was perhaps very practical, but not really romantic. Well, little did she know. Camille did not tell her the story behind the engraved Frog Prince – and Catherine had not seen Richard’s keyring. She figured there was no harm in letting her mother believe that it was a standard engravure – she didn’t have to know everything.

She recalled the night of the storm... That had been the beginning of it all… Not in her wildest dreams had she imagined that she’d move in with Richard after only a few months. She had hoped that a relationship would evolve, despite all obstacles – visible and invisible ones -, but she had never expected that they’d go this far within such a short time.

What a wild night that had been… who would have thought that the self-disciplined and controlled Inspector could be such an unrestrained lover?

While she was lost in her reverie, Richard stirred – he was slowly waking up. Camille snuggled up to him and began to kiss him tenderly. He murmured something unintelligible and pulled her closer. His hands began to caress her, and very soon, he was fully awake.

“Not dead any more, Inspector?” Camille teased him gently. She let out a gasp as his hand reached a sensitive spot, and he whispered “Need more proof?” She giggled and replied softly “Wouldn’t mind if you could go into that further…” He could – and he did. Camille sighed happily as his hands and mouth took control over her body – by now she knew what it felt like, but it was still exciting, wonderful and amazing… maybe even more so than the first time because they were more familiar with each other and their respective reactions. Still, it was new each time…

She didn’t get a chance to think deeper about that, though – at least not at that point – because his actions were seriously distracting her. Their lovemaking was warm, natural and quietly passionate – and they held on to one another for a little longer when it was over, just to savour the intimacy of the moment.

This was a good way to spend the first morning in their new home… but eventually, it was time to get up. The rest of the day was filled with getting everything organised, and they had a few minor arguments about petty details, but managed to compromise. Little by little, everything found its place, and after two more weeks, they had settled into some sort of routine.

***************

Another month later, on a rainy Saturday evening, Richard waved a final goodbye to Dwayne, Fidel and Juliet. “Thanks for the party, Chief, and have a good night – sweet dreams and everything, ya know!” Dwayne shouted it from the backseat of the Defender. Juliet shushed him, and Fidel just shook his head in mock despair. Dwayne had had one drink too many again, but at least he wasn’t smashed… Fidel was glad that those times were over…

Whatever, it had been a nice housewarming party, and Camille and the Chief had really done their best to keep them all entertained and happy. It had been nice that the Commissioner and his wife had showed up for an hour as well, but the atmosphere had become a lot more relaxed after they had left…

They drove off, Fidel waved one more time, and Richard closed the door of the house… finally peace! It seemed like the night would be rainy and windy, but well… they’d be safe. They didn’t have a long way to drive, so he didn’t worry.

With a sigh of relief he returned to the living room. Camille was nowhere to be seen, but he heard dishes clinking, so he collected the glasses that were standing on the table and brought them into the kitchen. Camille was busy loading the dishwasher – an appliance she had immediately fallen in love with when they had moved in. She looked up when he entered the room and smiled at him.

“Have I already told you how much I love this dishwasher?” she asked earnestly. He chuckled and said “You have, and it makes me a little jealous. After all, you’ve told me that you love me, too – and I’m not quite sure now if I can compete with the dishwasher…”

She closed the appliance’s door, threw a dishtowel in his direction and said vehemently “You idiot!” He shook his head in mock concern and said with a sad voice “I knew it. Now you’ve got a dishwasher, you don’t want anything to do with me any more…”

He pretended to turn around to go, and she flung another dishtowel at him that he caught effortlessly and pulled her closer as he grabbed it firmly. She laughed and came straight into his arms. “My little witch…” he whispered tenderly and kissed her lightly, switching off the light at the same time.

They went back to the living room area. The wind was making noises outside, but it was harmless compared to that other stormy night months ago… Richard sat down, and Camille stretched out on the settee, her head on Richard’s lap. “It was a nice evening, wasn’t it,” she said. “Hmm. Yes, I guess so… I wish Dwayne had been a little less – er - obvious in his references to the bedroom, but I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything else.”

Camille laughed and said “Did you notice how the Commissioner shushed his wife when she began to talk about how she had seen me driving down the road to your shack one evening? She didn’t finish the sentence, but I know exactly what she means. I think that must have been on the day when we had our first Friday date, you know. So, she and the Commissioner knew it all the time… well, more or less so. And they never let it slip…”

Richard nodded and smiled. “Sly old bugger…” he mused. “He knew I’d act rightaway once he’d let me know that he wouldn’t mind the two of us going out together… But I guess he didn’t realise that we were already a couple when he basically gave us his blessings. Funny, huh!”

He chuckled. Then he asked, haltingly “Tell me, Camille, do you – um -mind that your mother is clucking over Alex?” Catherine hadn’t been there for the party because she had to keep the bar open, but she had spent part of the afternoon with them and had brought cake and a potted plant as a housewarming gift. She had spent half of the time talking about Alex, her pregnancy and well-being, Billy’s new job, the changes they had made in the flat and all these things.

Richard had found that a little insensitive, but Camille didn’t seem to be bothered. She laughed softly and turned her head to look up at him. “Honestly?” she asked. He nodded. She ran her hand through her hair and replied thoughtfully “Actually, between you and me… I’m glad about it, and it’s liberating to a certain extent. It keeps her busy, and she has someone to take care of. The little one that will arrive soon will make her happy, and she will not spend all her time hovering over you and me, trying to convince us to start a family immediately. And Alex really, really appreciates her care. I mean, it’s not that I don’t, but the thing is that Alex and her mother never had a great relationship, and she has been sad about that. She hasn’t felt accepted, you know. And my mother compensates for that now.”

She frowned and continued “What I’d find patronising… Alex loves it and sees it as a sign of care. I know Maman loves me, but she has to let me go… so for the moment, having Alex and Billy is like she has two new children, and that helps her to get over the fact that I have clearly, finally and definitely left the nest. I’m blessed to have a caring mother, and I’m blessed to have you in my life. I can be generous and share a little of my happiness with those who aren’t that fortunate. And I know that sounds soppy, but it’s the way I feel.”

He smiled and said softly “It doesn’t sound soppy. It sounds touching. And I’m glad that you feel that way. I had been a little worried because of that. Good to know that I worried for nothing… And given the fact that you counted me as a blessing and not the dishwasher definitely gives me hope that I worried for nothing there as well…”

Camille laughed and sat up. “You’ll notice when you’ll have reason to worry, Richard – I won’t leave you in doubt. For now, I have nothing to complain about… Come on, Frog Prince – let’s go to bed… it’s been a hard day!”

With that, they climbed the stairs to their bedroom and got ready for yet another stormy night…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on another story / series lately. Not quite sure when I'll be ready to post, but I'll be back :-)


End file.
